


The Case of the Versailles Poisonings

by Gwerinos (orphan_account), Miss_Napoleon



Category: Sherlock (TV), Versailles (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-03-25 23:49:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 32,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13845618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Gwerinos, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Napoleon/pseuds/Miss_Napoleon
Summary: Prince Sherlock is sent to Versailles France in accordance with a treaty between France and Sherlock's home country of Sherrinford. Of course he gets involved in solving the poisonings.





	1. Chapter 1

The King looked around at his ministers.  “Why have I never seen this treaty before?”

 

“It has been in effect since before you were born, Sire,” his Valet told him. 

 

“I’ve never even heard of this country.  Where is it?” Louis asked.  

 

One of the ministers went to he map on the easel.  “It is believed to be somewhere about here.”

 

“In the middle of the English Channel?” 

 

“Yes, Sire. Over the last few hundred years it has been alternatively French and English.  Both claim the island because of its strategic position.  They have an almost identical treaty with the English. It is estimated that France provides approximately half the necessary provisions for the population which is thought to be quite small. The English provide them with grains on the provision that they do not grow their own. The idea is that we cannot them use them as a supply station.”

 

“And now we are obliged to host their Prince and his family in Versailles at France’s expense?” Louis asked. 

 

“Yes, Sire.  Prince Sherlock will be arriving tomorrow along with his wife, his doctor and several servants. Rooms have been prepared for them,” Bontemps said.  

 

“Tell me more about their country,” Louis asked. 

 

“The reports are conflicting.  Some say that their entire country exists of two islands, Sherrinford and Holmes, whereas other reports say there is only one island with two districts. Some say they have a strong navy others say they have no navy at all. The truth is, Sire, we do not know. No one still alive in France has ever stepped foot in their country, nor met anyone from there. Prince Sherlock is the Queen’s second son and it is believed that his first son has been living in London for some 20 years. There have been rumours of a third child, but again just rumours.”

 

“Why has no envoy ever been sent?”

 

“There have been, Sire. But no one ever returns. There are rumours that they drown missionaries and that the people are devil worshipers. Sailors will not go near the place.”  

 

“Yet we receive mail from them,” Louis pointed out. 

 

“They send a boat to our shores and when there is a reply from us, a signal is lit and they send a boat for the reply.”  

 

***

 

“What is that stink?” Princess Irene asked. 

 

“It’s the swamp,” Sherlock replied. 

 

“The faster we get through it the better.”

 

Sherlock snickered. “Versailles is built in the swamp.  It used to be the King’s hunting grounds. Louis XIV decided to desert Paris and build a palace here. It’s his capitol.”

 

“Are we certain that Louis XIV is sane?” John Watson asked. 

 

“It is entirely possible that he is not. But he is King and a tyrant so he gets what he wants. He’s had his ministers and all his court just about trapped here for awhile.”

 

“Trapped? Like a prison?” John asked. 

 

“We shall see.” 

 

“Well, I see that we have run out of the roads the Romans built,” John muttered as they rode along in two dirt ruts.

 

They paused in their journey about a mile short of the palace so that Sherlock’s valet, a Englishman called Anderson, could fuss over his clothes and make him presentable for the King.    
  
Irene was being fussed over by her lover, Molly Hooper, as she stood to the side of the coach and threw up. She was pregnant again and she hated it.  

 

It didn’t take long to get to the palace and even Sherlock had to admit that it was impressive, though greatly overdone for his tastes. Sherlock was dressed French style since they had stopped in Paris for ten days before heading to Versailles. He was able to have a wardrobe tailored for his entire entourage at the expense of France.  It took a while before Sherlock had an audience with Louis.

 

Sherlock looked King louis up and down as he moved into the room in which he alone was allowed. He bowed ever so slightly to the king. Sherlock towered over him so Sherlock kept his distance, so that he would not feel intimidated. 

 

“Welcome to the palace of Versailles” said the king, with a bright smile on his face, opening his arms to the room trying to drive the attention of the prince to the beautiful decorations.

 

“No, not at all welcome,” Sherlock replied. “You don’t welcome me. You put up with me being here because of the treaty. But in fact you wish I wasn’t here. You wish I didn’t exist at all. You have only just heard of me and your advisors have not been able to tell you anything about my country, not even if I am friend or foe.”

 

Louis stepped back and the smile on his face disappeared, he closed his hands in front of himself and tilted his face while he listened; trying to work a good answer in his head. ‘Well don’t be welcome if you wish’ he thought in his head, but he took a deep breath.

 

“The trip here was tiring, tedious and uncomfortable, but the destination...now seen will never be forgotten. The work of a visionary.  You, I assume,” Sherlock continued. 

 

“Yes, It was me” smile back on his face “But I don’t want all the merits, as this is the house of France” He held his hand to point at the window behind Sherlock. “If you wish I could show you around and you could see what I’ve created” He gave him a challenging smile, still thinking of his words before. Would he be an ally or an enemy?

 

Sherlock gave the slightest of smiles. “I would be delighted. I hope to stay for some time and become familiar with all its treasures. It took quite some convincing to be allowed to come here. My brother has been away in England for too long and we cannot be both away from home at the same time.  This is my chosen freedom. The ‘climate’ in England is too turbulent for me. You...France, is more stable. A more fitting ally for a tiny country.”   

 

The king sighed at the idea of having them there for long; but he got his game face back on and started walking to the door, offering him a way. “Yes, of course; even now it’s sunny in winter. The sun is always bright at Versailles. If you wish we could start at the gardens, while there’s light, and we’ll show you the french freedom tonight at dinner.”

 

Sherlock did smile then.  As they were leaving the room the Duc d’Orleans approached. Sherlock gave a slight bow.  

 

“Oh, this is my brother” Louis looked up and down on Philippe, checking that he was not doing anything stupid to impress the new incomers “Duc d’Orleans, Duc d’Anjou and my only brother.”

 

“Your reputation precedes you as your battle strategies commend you are the best military commander in Europe,” Sherlock told Philippe. 

 

Philippe bowed to the visitor while keeping eye contact, swapping between his brother and the new incomer. “Sorry I’m late” he said with a side smile “You were leaving already?”

 

"Just for a trip around the gardens,” Sherlock grinned. “I hope to see you later.” 

 

Philippe bowed back at them with a smile and let them make their way out. Too later make his way in the opposite direction.

 

As they walked out into the gardens, both having donned hats and coats, mindful of their complexions, Sherlock said, “Your brother is very comely.” 

 

He smiled and nodded “The Duc d’Orleans can be very welcoming to anyone who knows how to wear clothes properly” he laughed at his own joke.

Sherlock glanced sideways at the King. “Then I will not have the same problem here as I would in England as to my taste in lovers?” Sherlock inquired.

 

The king almost stopped walking in surprise, that was indeed a direct question. He tried to keep on as normal while thinking of an answer. “As you said, Versailles is a place of freedom. And as much as I can decide, freedom is the way to go for most of the courtesans here. If their freedom doesn’t involve murder or treason” 

 

“Everyone is capable of murder, Sire.  As for treason, I am not French therefore I cannot commit treason against you. Though you can rest assured that I have no desire to do either. I am the younger son of a Queen and I have already seen to provide an heir to the throne, something my brother seems incapable of doing, so all my duties have been fulfilled. I am here at the pleasure of your Majesty to bask in the splendor of your court.”

 

“Well then, we’ll have to make you enjoy your stay here while we can” he pointed at their left side, to a perfectly organised group of almond trees, and he offered him to walk around them. Their entourage walking behind.

 

Sherlock stopped at the sight before him. “Such organization, such beauty.  We have nothing like it. The sea winds do not permit it.” He seemed genuinely amazed.  

 

“And this is not all. You could walk around the gardens of Versailles for months and still not know it all” He said, also looking at his creation. “I don’t recommend going too far alone though, there are wild animals in the gardens surroundings. We could arrange a hunting day out.”

 

“Large, dangerous animals?’ Sherlock asked.  “We do not hunt. There is nothing to hunt in our country barring a few wild hares.”

 

A slightly older man a little shorter than Louis, approach from within Sherlock’s entourage.  “Highness…” he said quietly. “May I be excused...my leg.”

 

“Of course, John.”  

 

The King looked at the man walking away raising his eyebrows. “What kind of cave have you been living in, Sherlock?” he asked him with a side smile. “Now I will be surprised if you tell me you don’t have horses neither.”

 

“We don’t.” Then Sherlock laughed. “Of course we have horses. French horses, in fact.  Excuse John. He was injured fighting the English as a young man and his leg has never healed properly.”

 

“By his accent and the fact that he spoke to you in English, I thought he was English.”

 

“Scottish, the son of a Lord who was relieved of his lands by the English.  He went to London as a lad and studied medicine.  He lost his accent or rather he learnt to speak English without the accent and returned home to treat the injured Scottish soldiers. I met him when I was in England studying.  He is a fine doctor, though his methods are unconventional. I believe that if he had been able to treat his own injury he would not be bothered by it now.  He is something of a hero to my people.”

 

“And which of these charming ladies is your wife?” Louis asked. 

 

“My wife, thankfully, retired to her room upon arrival. She is pregnant again and in the early stages she is not a happy woman, more like, if what I have read is true, a wild boar.”

 

Louis almost laughed. 

 

“She is true to the nature of the Irish.  It has taken her four years but she has finally gotten to France, which was her destination when her boat sank and she washed up on our shores. She was immediately arrested as an English spy until we discovered that the Irish have even less love for the English than the French,” Sherlock informed him. 

 

“So your married her?” Louis asked. 

 

“Dr Watson, John, recommended that we marry outside the family, fresh blood, he called it.  The problem with that is that just about everyone in our country is related. I would have preferred not to marry at all.  But as I am sure you know, Sire, it is our duty.”  

 

“You are quite free in telling me about your country and your family,” Louis said. 

 

“We are allies, can we not be friends as well? My son will eventually be a king.  As king he will need a queen.  You have a daughter.  I have a son. Princess Marie Therese, I believe is the same age as Prince Julian.”    

 

This time Louis laughed openly.  “And what makes you think that your son is a worthy husband for my daughter? There are many young princes in Europe.”

 

“There are many young princes who will never be kings.  But I am ahead of myself. We came here to experience France not to negotiate a marriage between children. That is not our way.”

 

“What is your way?” Louis asked. 

 

“We marry for love.”

 

“You did not.”

 

“My love was never going to produce an heir. In that way, I have much in common with your brother.”  

 

“My brother… was never great at fulfilling his duty. He did marry, but he never did much more about it” this mentioning about Philippe made him think. Since Henriette died and her mourning had passed Philippe had openly held parties for everyone and bringing all of his friends into Versailles. He was starting to wonder if letting him and the chevalier be their own was good for his image, his brother maybe needed a new wife to slow him down. “I can see you are much better at getting heirs, as he is getting only girls.”

 

“You have an heir, but no spare. 

 

“Well that’s a work in progress”

 

“As it must be for us all,” Sherlock replied. 

 

Louis answered with a smile, turning on his feet to look at Sherlock.

 

“At least, as a Prince and not a king, I can have my children with me.”  

 

“I can see, in your… country, your very fond of taking your whole family everywhere. Is your son also with you?” He asked now, wondering if the whole island had come to Versailles, maybe trying to take over it.

 

“He is here, yes,” Sherlock replied. 

 

“Great. Then I will see you all, happy family at dinner tonight.” He held his hands together with another great smile. “ I do need to go now and arrange some meetings… we will see you later on” And he turned towards the palace; with the thoughts in his head running, not believing how this prince from such a small country could have disturbed him so much.

 

***

 

Sherlock stormed into the room he shared with John, throwing his hat and coat and then his boots around the room with as much noise and displeasure as he could muster.  “You weren’t there.  I needed you and you weren’t there.  Now, I have offended the king and I don’t even know how I did it.”  He threw himself down on the bed and huffed dramatically. 

 

“Sherlock,” John moaned. “Stop being so dramatic.  It is probably nothing you have done.”

 

“Tell that to the men who come to murder us all in our beds tonight.”

 

“They won’t murder us.  There is no political gain in murdering us. We have a treaty,” John reminded Sherlock with his own words. “The king is known for his bad mood, but he has never killed a foreign prince”

 

"We are expected for dinner.” Sherlock stood up and stripped off.  “Wash up. The French might think it is alright to go about stinking but I would prefer us to be clean.”  

 

“You are spoilt by living at home.  All that fresh air and bathing in the sea. This place doesn’t even have toilets.  So much for your advanced whatever it was you called it,” John told him.  

 

“Anderson!” Sherlock called. The tall fumbling man came through the door that looked like part of the wall.  Behind it was tunnel-like corridors for servants or people who wanted to sneak around other people’s rooms at night. “This water smells.  Get me clean water that has been boiled.” 

 

“Sherlock, hot water is not good for you,” John told him.  

 

“But at least it doesn’t smell.”

 

“Everyone smells.  You are just not accustomed to so many people in one place.  This palace hold more people than the whole of your country.”

 

“Our country,” Sherlock corrected him.  

 

“Your mother still says I am a Scot.” 

 

“Well, I say, you are mine.” 

 

“And your mother spoils you rotten.” 

  
  
  
  


The doors of the queen’s room flung open and the king entered almost in a rush, she looked surprised and stood up from her seat, breathing deeply.

 

“Where’s our son? Where is the Dauphin?” Louis asked and the queen frowed.

 

“He’s at saint germain, as he’s always been” she said, calmly, almost in a whisper.

 

“I want him here for dinner” he was not looking at her, his eyes were everywhere, his thoughts running through his mind.

 

“What?” She answered almost in disbelief. “It would take an hour to send a messenger and then an hour or more to bring him here.”

 

“We’ll have dinner late tonight” he turned to a servant at the door. “Tell the Holmes’s we have late dinner tonight, followed by a party.” The servant started walking away. “And also tell my brother!” he said. Turned back at the Queen. “I want all of our children here tonight”

 

“Anne Marie is only a baby. She can’t travel so far in the evening and she can’t come to dinner,” the Queen pointed out.  

 

“She will have to try” he said, with an evil smile on his face. “We need tough princess to go and mary kings around Europe. Make them come and be ready” he turned and started walking towards the door.

  
  
  


Philippe burst into his brothers room.  “Have you lost your mind?”  

 

Louis looked away from the mirror and gave his brother a look over his shoulder. “Have you lost your manners?” he glanced back at the mirror.

 

“Gathering up the children all in one place so they can all die at once when they are attacked on the road?” Philippe nearly screamed at his brother.  “It is hard enough in this family to keep our children alive.”  

 

He turned back at him and walked a few steps forwards. “We need to make a good impression to this foreign family, they have all come” he pointed at his brothers chest “So we are also going to be a perfect family all together…” he looked sideways. “You can even bring the chevalier!” He said, remembering what the prince had asked him at the gardens.

 

“Brother, he is prince of nothing. They come to us to be fed.  France supports half their population and England supports the other half. We have no use for them or their lands. Why is making an impression so important? But, if I can bring him…” Philippe reasoned, knowing it was already too late to stop them bringing the children. 

 

“Remember brother, what one person sees at Versailles, it’s what all Europe can see” he said, and smile at him before turning around again, happy that his brother decided not to dig into the matter much. 

 

“If anything happens to the children…”

 

“We’ll have more.” he said shaking his hands in the air, thinking about his mistress, who was already showing off her big belly around the palace.

 

“Easy for you to say.  I don’t have a wife.”  

 

“Oh, speaking of that matter.” he turned around again to face him.

 

“NO! Don’t spoil it.”

 

“It is your duty, and we can arrange a marriage that favors us in the Dutch war…”

 

“Not listening.  I can only forgive you one indulgence at a time.”

 

Louis looked at him sideways, thinking about the matter and deciding he preferred his brother in good mood for that night. “Get ready for tonight…” he started and then pointed at him again “And don’t you dare do any stupid things of yours!”

 

“I’ll wear my best dress,” Philippe teased. 

 

Louis looked at him with evil eyes, almost in a challenge. “Please brother, it’s time to make a good impression. This could be a move for the country. And you can take a great place in it.”

 

“On a nobody from nowhere who brings children to the most decadent palace on Earth.” 

 

“But his mind works different from other kings in Europe” he said to him, walking even closer. “He is like us, brother, with a mind ahead his time”

 

“What are you up to? The whole court is awash with rumours about them. There is talk that they are heathens who eat missionaries and perform black masses and sacrifice their children to satan. I have to admit he is...handsome...but is he really the sort of person you want around here?” 

 

“You. Get yourself ready. Make yourself as charming and…” He looked him up to down “... those things you all like. You know?” he smiled and tilted his head. “And no one will get eaten tonight, but the chicken”

 

“Chicken? Isn’t a family feast at least worth a few pheasants?”  But Philippe was turning away to leave.  He would need time to get his dress exactly right.

 

Louis watched his brother leave, with a smile in his lips. Another piece of the puzzle in. Now he had to try and keep his very-pregnant-mistress enclosed in her rooms for the night.

 

The chevalier was sitting on the sofa at Monsieurs rooms, sipping on a glass of wine, wondering what to wear to the party that was held for the royal family that stayed at Versailles. He was really curious to see how these new people looked. 

 

Philippe pulled out his dresses.  He had only left two in Versailles and had taken the rest home. When they had arrived back he had only intended them to stay just long enough then to chose new silks since Louis had the tailors guild bring all the latest there and by the time they got back to Paris all the best would be gone.  He fully intended that he would take his children home with him the next day. He had already spotted the way the visiting Prince’s people wore their hair and he chose a brooch to pin on the ribbon.  

 

“Why is your brother suddenly so interested in holding a party for these people… bringing the kids, putting Montespan away…” the chevalier said, getting up and walking towards him “it doesn’t sound very Louis really…” he said, with a laugh.

 

“It’s a new stage,” Monsieur replied. He went to stand behind the chevalier and tied his hair back in a ponytail with a gold ribbon. He looked at his handiwork and approved.  At the very least it would the man’s hair out of the soup. 

 

“A new stage? Sounds like a baby-sitting party to me” he said, frowning while Philippe touched his hair.

 

“You are invited to a family dinner. The court will not be there. They will be at the party after when the children have been put to bed.”

 

The blonde opened his eyes in surprise. “Really?” he asked, and reached his hand back to his hair to pull the ribbon away, letting his hair loose again. He turned around to look at him. “What kind of drugs has this prince given your brother to make him want me in a ‘family dinner’?”

 

"I'll have to ask and then get more of it,” Philippe replied. 

 

“Definitely, he should share with all of us” he reached for a kiss and then walked away “ maybe that is the reason your brother wants a good relationship with them” he looked at his clothes that were spread on the bed, trying to decide on a coat to wear.

  
  


Everyone was surprised to find the children gathered on a rug on the floor in the centre of the three tables that made a  U shape.  Their prospective attendants sitting with them, keeping them occupied as the adults filed into the room and took their seats. The king was last to arrive and everyone stood until he sat. 

 

“Your Majesty, may I present my wife, Princess Irene.”

 

Louis nodded his face as a bow to the princess, who he thought, had an attractive look in her eyes. He then turned back to his family. “This is Marie Therese, Queen of France and regent queen of Navarre.” the queen smiled back. “And The great Dauphin, Louis”

 

“Your Majesty...Highness,” Sherlock said.  "My son, Julian,” he pointed out. “And the little one next to him is Dr Watson’s daughter Mary Rosamond.”

 

The king watched his son looking at the children.  “You may have your dinner with the children if you wish.”  Little Louis grinned and got out of his seat to join the other children. Philippe then waved Marie Louise from the table. 

 

They waited for the king to start to serve himself from the plates of food on the table.  The Holmes’ looked on curiously.  

 

“Is something wrong?” Louis asked. 

 

“This is very odd for us. At home we are served with the food already on our plates. And…”

 

“Go on,” Louis encouraged.

 

“We do not touch our food except for fruit, and bread,” Sherlock replied. He reached to some of the food just as the king had. LeStrade moved to stand beside him to taste the food. Sherlock waved him away. “I am sure the King’s tasters have already cleared the food.”

 

“Versailles is infamous for it’s poisoning, your highness.” 

 

Louis reached over and took a small portion of the salmon on Sherlock’s plate and ate it. “It is quite safe. All the food is tested 3 times before being brought to the table.”  

 

“I am sure that LeStrade meant no disrespect, Sire.”

 

“It is understandable since my wife died of poisoning just last year,” Philippe commented. “You have a food taster.” He then looked at Louis. “I don’t have a food taster.” 

 

“When you lived here, you did,” Louis replied. “There will always be protection for you here.” 

 

A little hand crept over the edge of the table and grabbed the stem of the Chevalier's wine glass. It retreated with the glass with such stealth that no one noticed until he reached for his own glass. He waved at the servant for a new glass, thinking that for some reason it had been taken away.  

 

“This is a funny gathering of kids… and governesses…” the chevalier said to Philippe, inclining towards him, almost in a whisper, looking at the young ladies playing and attending the children. “And i can’t deny there's something attractive in this prince, eh?”

 

“Tomorrow is Sunday,” John commented. “Will we be expected to attend mass?” 

 

The chevalier laughed “Expectes? Yes probably…” but the king almost killed him with an evil look.

 

“We do attend mass, doctor… France is a Christian country, and thereforth we do” the king answered, changing his face back to his smile “Do you have any problem in this matter?”

 

“I will not attend a Papist mass,” John stated, though his French was very rough. 

 

“I will not attend any religious ritual,” Sherlock added. “Unless you so order, your Majesty. But I think your priest might object to our presence.”    

 

“Are none of your people Catholic?” the Queen asked. 

 

“If they are, they are free to attend.  My country has no churches, no priests.”  Sherlock informed her. 

 

“Cause they don’t fit…” the chevalier whispered to Philippes ear, with a smile. He felt so amused with this dinner.

 

“You are free to not attend to mass. We’ve had princes and kings from all around the world in Versailles and we have never obligate” The king said, moving his hand to hold the queen’s, who was almost going to jump off her chair. “But I do invite you, at any time of the day, to visit the chapel. Not to listen to god, but to appreciate its beauty.”

 

“I shall,” Sherlock replied. 

 

“I have heard that your people are heathens,” the Queen almost spat. 

 

“To say we are heathen implies a belief in God.  It is more accurate to say we are atheists, though John is a  Presbyterian. ”

 

“We’ll that is not a healthy way of…” the queen started in disgust, but Philippe’s voice kept her from continuing.

 

“Oh come on! Sounds interesting” he said, leaning over to listen “ An interesting way to make life so much easier” He smiled. “And what do you do on sunday mornings then?”

 

“Generally, each other,” John replied. 

 

The chevalier rose his eyebrows and clapped his hands with a ‘Ha!’ “Love it!” it was the first words he had said out loud to the table.

 

“Julian?” his governess said a little louder than was polite.  

 

John immediately leapt up from the table and  went to the boy. He saw the wine glass and smelt the boy’s breath.  Grabbing him the Doctor thrust a finger down the boy’s throat and made him vomit. Then grabbing a pitcher of water he threw it on Julian’s face. The little boy began crying. “He’ll be alright. He brought up most of the wine.”

 

Sherlock sighed in relief. The rest of the table was surprised by the scene and was speechless really. One of the governesses came near to the king.

 

“I think it would be time for the children to go to bed sire. At least for the smaller ones”

 

The king nodded and did a swing with his hand. “Do you think it would be best, your highness?” he asked back to Sherlock.

 

“Yes,” Sherlock said clearly unhappy with the whole situation. 

 

“Is it common here that you give alcohol to children?” John asked, while passing Julian to his governess, with a deep and mad voice.

 

The king breath deeply looking for his words to respond. As seconds passed, his brother thought he could come for the rescue, once again.

 

“Versailles is not the perfect place for children” he walked around the table “let's say, they are not always here. What my brother wants to say is, sorry for that incident.” He said looking at John and then moving his eyes to Sherlock.

 

“Elan, what have you got to say for yourself?” Sherlock asked in English as the governess passed behind him. 

 

“I think he believed it to be berry juice, Sir.”

 

“And you were not paying attention?”

 

“I was feeding Rosie,” Elan replied. 

 

“And where is her governess?” 

 

“She wanted the night off, Sir.”

 

Most of the people at the table understood English, and they looked from one to the other while they spoke. Finally the king found some words.

 

“We should let these ladies put the babies to bed and we could continue with our dinner. I believe things will look different in the morning”

 

After he talked Marie Louise went up to her father, Philippe, followed by little Louis. “Can we stay for longer?” and Louis looked back at his parents, asking for permission too.

 

The queen didn’t look happy with the idea, as she though that her son was young even to be at the court. But the final words were from the king.

 

“You can stay as long as you behave” he told him, sitting back down and telling the rest to do so with a move of his hand. Philippe nodded to his daughter and walked back to his place at the table. The rest of the governesses started taking the younger babies out of the room. The servants quickly cleaned up after the children.  

 

Irene and John began talking to each other in Gaelic. “You should practice your French,” Sherlock said. John opened his mouth but before he could speak, Sherlock interrupted.  “Not you, no one want to hear mutilate a language as beautiful as French.”  John frowned. 

 

Philippe couldn’t help himself but to get into the conversation, as he was starting to be so curious about the customs in their country. “What is the official language where you live? I can see you speak a lot of different ones”

 

“Gaelic, but French and English are also quite common,” Sherlock replied. “Neither John, nor Irene grew up in Sherrin.  There common language is Gaelic. I speak 23 languages,” he added. 

 

“How is that even possible?” the chevalier added in disbelief, entering the conversation. “Is there even 23 languages to be spoken?” he giggled, with a glass of wine permanently in his hand. Philippe looked at him with side eyes.

 

“There are over 200 languages,” Sherlock told him.  “Most of which I will never have reason to speak.”

 

“I’ve always thought it would be easier if you chose a common language for all Europe,” Philippe added “it would be so much better to create treaties and keep good relationship between the countries”

 

“Most of the great houses of Europe speak French, even the English. I cannot see a day that the Spanish declare French as their language, nor the Dutch.”   

 

“The spanish lost all of their opportunities when they accepted a foreign family to take their crown… they became a part of an empire… but at what cost” monsieur glanced at the queen quickly and then back at the foreign prince. “But politics have never been my favourite theme. What do you normally do when dinner time is finish but it’s not time to bed?”

 

Princess Irene smiled.  “We dance, we play music, we read, we sing, we seek out our favourite lovers and dance some more and count the stars.”

 

“I have brought musicians with us so you might sample our music and dances,” Sherlock told them.     
  


“I am told that your musicians have set up for the party,” Louis said.  

 

“If you don’t object Sire, I would like to change to our traditional way of dress.  We will wear French clothes at court. But I wish to show us as we are tonight,” Sherlock told him.

 

“Sounds intriguing. Of course, you have my permission,” Louis replied.  

 

***

 

People cleared the way when Prince Sherlock, Dr Watson and Princess Irene came out into the gardens to the canopy set up for the King and his guests.  Sherlock and John were wearing traditional kilts which came down to just above their knees. Sherlock’s was completely black and held about his hips with a wide black leather belt. John’s was brown.  Neither kilt had fancy even pleats but were wildly laped over and over and the the end was thrown over one shoulder. They were completely naked above the waist but wore soft leather knee high boots that were laced to their legs.  Their hair was now released from the pony tail but the entire top half of their hair was brushed back and bound with leather.  Irene’s hair was loose. She wore a long woolen skirt that was tucked into her belt in the front to reveal and ankle length linen underskirt. Her corset was gone, at least the type that the French ladies wore.  Instead she wore a sleeveless short jacket over her gathered linen blouse, that that nearly thrust her breasts out the top of the blouse. For warmth she had a woolen shawl draped across her back and over her shoulders.  

 

When the musicians saw the Prince coming the drums began, getting louder and faster as Sherlock drew closer. They stopped suddenly when Sherlock stopped in front of the King and Queen and bowed. Then Irene walked up the stairs to join the king’s party while Sherlock nodded to the musicians.  There was a heavy undertone of drums, with flutes, fiddles and a type of bagpipe.  It was nothing like the French had ever heard.  The dancers joined Sherlock and John. Men danced with men while women danced with women in a quick frenzy of steps which seemed to get faster and faster as the music went on.  It stopped abruptly, except for the bagpipes which gave and ending wheeze. 

 

As suddenly as it stopped the drums began again. 

 

“That sounds like a march,” Philippe said. 

 

“It is,” Irene replied.  “It’s called the march of kings.”

 

Sherlock and John were still catching their breath when the came up the steps to their seats, pausing to bow before Louis. Anderson quickly handed Sherlock a tankard of what was clearly not wine.  Sherlock noted Philippe’s interest.  “Serve, the king and Prince Philippe,” he instructed Anderson. Not having tankards, they were served in large wine glasses.  

 

Louis held it up to the light.  “It’s brown and thick.”

 

“It’s called grosse bière.”

 

“We do have ale in France,” Louis replied. 

 

“Not like this.”

 

Louis waited for Sherlock to take a mouthful first. 

 

The drums stopped and fiddlers began a melodic tune joined by one singer who stood before the canopy.  

 

“He sings of his lost love who threw herself off the cliffs of Sherrin when her father ordered her to marry someone she didn’t love. It is part of our history.  Our laws changed because of it. Now no one in Sherrin can be forced to marry, not even a Prince,” Sherlock told Louis.

 

“Well that sounds convenient” Philippe answered, giving a look to Louis while drinking from the new beverage.

 

“I’ve never heard of a country having such a strange,” the king meditated his words “different law. Even if a marriage is not for love, it can be successful and happy, in a way. You yourself said you didn’t marry for love but for duty”

 

“I wouldn’t know about that. There are many kinds of love, your Majesty,” Irene replied. “We were not forced to marry.”

 

“But I can see how an arranged marriage could serve a country such as France,” Sherlock said. 

 

“Of course. The best treaties have normally been closed with a marriage” the king reached his hand to the queen’s hand, who was looking kind of absent. She smiled back and wondered for how long would she have this attitude from the king.

 

“I wonder if tomorrow I might borrow your brother, Sire?” John asked.  “I have maps of Sherrin and would like to hear his opinion on it’s defence.”  

 

The king frowned and sat up straight on his chair. “We can arrange a meeting with my ministers if you like, to discuss that matter…” but the kings words were stopped by his brother.

 

“I would love to help” Philippe answered, pretending not to have heard Louis “I would love to hear and learn more about your lands”

 

“Yes, you sound amazed…” the chevalier walk up the steps to the canopy with a glass of wine in his hand, as always. Coming closer to Philippe’s chair “It sounds like you would go and live there, my dear.” he raised his eyebrows.

 

“You wouldn’t like it. It is usually very dull. Unless you like rounding up and shearing sheep or fishing. We have a yearly fishing competition,” Sherlock told him. 

 

“Definitely not” the chevalier giggled “we have much more interesting ways to have fun here”

 

The king interfered trying to keep the chevalier intentions hidden, starting to repent his decision of letting Philippe invite him. “Is fish the main food? As you have nothing to hunt?”

 

“We have 41 ways of cooking fish. At the same time as most of the men are catching fish, the women are preparing them for the feast,” Irene told them. “As if we don’t have fish for dinner every other night.” 

 

“Well if you like, we can arrange a hunt party for next week” the king said, looking back at the men after listening to Irene. “So you can appreciate the wild forests that surround Versailles and lear a bit more of our culture” he smiled again. “My brother loves hunting.”

 

That last sentence made the chevalier, who was standing behinds Philippe chair, laugh and Monsieur frowned “Really?” he replied.

 

“Unfortunately, I will not be able to join you. My doctor advised me not to ride,” Irene replied. 

 

“I would love to join the hunt,” John announced.  “Sherlock?”

 

“I’ve never hunted, but I suppose I would enjoy the ride.”  

 

“Perfect, we’ll go hunting” his happiness was almost palpable. He then left his glass at the small table next to his chair, got up from the chair and held his hand to the queen. “Would you like a dance?” she asked her. She looked surprised at the invitation.

 

“If it is not that primitive style,” she almost whispered. 

 

Sherlock stood and held his hand out to Philippe. “Your highness?”

 

Philippe looked at his hand a bit concerned, then glanced around before taking his hand with a smile. “Of course” And he followed him down the stairs.

 

The chevalier took five seconds to sit on Monsieurs chair and crossed his legs, then looked at John with a side smile. “So… what is your place in all this? You’re a doctor, a valet, what?”

 

“I think you know exactly what I am,” John replied without taking his eyes off Sherlock. 

 

The chevalier followed his look and his eyes met Philippe and Sherlock, he looked back, with another smile. “Yes, you’re jealous.”

 

“No more than you.” John downed the last of his ale and held his tankard out for a refill. “But I, at least, know that nothing will come of it. They both want to dance the lady’s role.” 

 

He looked back at the pair and could help but crack in laughter, when he caught his breath again and emptied his glass he asked “Can i have a bit of what you’re drinking?” he reached his glass to the servant “I like the way you think” he told him, as a compliment. 

 

“Anderson.” John said. 

 

“I’m not your servant,” Anderson replied. 

 

John turned and gave the man a look that could kill and Anderson filled the glass.  

 

“What an attitude” he said, raising his eyebrows with a smile. “So, all this,” he this a gesture with his hands, first referring to them and then glancing at Sherlock and Philippe “it’s seen with good eyes where you come from?”

 

“Most Sherrins would hate it here.  But Sherlock is not eager to go home.”

 

“And I love it,” Irene interrupted. “When the best festival of the year at home involves descaling fish, who wouldn’t love it here.”

 

“I don’t doubt it” he said, smiling back at her “but, even if Versailles can look fun in a first glance, the life at court can be difficult on day to day. Dealing with gossip, treachery… can really deplete one’s person” he drank his whole glass after saying this “But i have to admit I love it”

 

“Sounds just like a place that Sherlock will fall in love with.  I have never seen him so happy as he was trying to solve a murder on Sherrin,” John said. “He will get involved with the poisonings here, I am certain of it.  In fact I think news of them is why he wanted to come here in the first place.” 

 

“That would be awesome, since Henriette’s death the king has been catatonic” he glanced at the people dancing “and the brothers have never been more apart… I can’t say it is always the best, but the prince’s mood is worse than ever. You’re visit seems to have cheered him up”

 

“He will have to marry again, won’t he?” John asked. John looked at the chevalier with sad eyes. 

 

“Most likely, yes. When the king decides he want to invade a new country and wants allies.” 

 

“And he does not yet have a son.  At least I have Sherlock to myself now.”

 

The chevalier looked at the crowd and spotted Philippe’s daughter dancing around the crowd, she was indeed as pretty as her father. “I don’t know if that’s a big matter to him, Marie Louise has quite a character, and Louis looks healthy enough.” he looked back at John. “But all marriages need to be tied with a baby, I guess” he shrugged and tried to smile.

 

“You might not know, but women beat sheep anyday.”  

 

“Sorry, is it also common in your country to sleep with sheeps?” The chevalier answered in disbelief. 

 

John roared with laughter.  “Lost in translation.”  

 

“It is a country joke,” Irene told him. 

 

The chevalier also laughed and moved in the chair. “With Henriette was easy, she appeared pregnant easily and it was always sure the baby had royal blood” he took a deep breath.

 

“Oh! I see.  So it was a loss for them both,” John replied suddenly realizing.  

 

“Aham” he answered nodding. “And since then it looked like a battle to see who was better at mourning”

 

“Sherlock and I have been close since we met in London when we were both young, but we have not been lovers long.  The murder I spoke of was my wife.”  John didn’t know why he was telling the chevalier this.  But it wasn’t a secret on Sherrin so he didn’t see that it mattered. 

 

“It surprises me how you used the word lover so easily, that's something only rumors use around here. I’m sorry for your loss. They had also been close, The king, Philippe and Henriette where already like siblings when i got to the palais royale”

 

“Surely the French are not so stupid not to realize that you love the Prince and he clearly loves you.”  

 

“Oh, they realise. But things around here have to go with protocole. So if you have a lover you call it close friend; and if you want to live with him you make him head of your household. And let's not speak about ranks, Philippe had to handle quite a lot of bad talking when he was young and his favourite was not more than a Marquis”

 

“I am never called Princess at home.  I never even thought about it until we came to France. We call the king, Arthur, and the Queen, Margaret,” Irene inform him.  

 

“We’ll here, my dear, all that you do is planned.” He did a move with his hand to indicate he was talking about everything “Where you sit, how you sit, how you dress, who you can talk to… I can give you a few classes if you need. I don’t like saying this, but I’m the best at it.” he smiled, while pulling from one of his curls.

 

“You could tell me how you get your hair like that,” Irene said. “It’s beautiful.”

 

“Oh well, I’m afraid that is a secret of state” he smiled at her and then leaned a bit forward towards her to say in a loud whisper “but as a foreign princess I think we can make an exception”

 

Just when the chevalier was getting his glass filled again a little figure passed running between the chair and the servant, making him toss the jug on the floor, breaking into pieces. Seconds after a second little person ran the same path, but slipped with the liquid and fell on the floor. The princess Marie Louise held her breath trying no to cry and looked up at the chevalier and John, sitting just above her.

 

John reached down and picked her up, sitting her on his lap.  He dried her face.  “Are you hurt?” he asked in broken French. 

 

She held her hands up, where she had notice the sting, and she had a few cuts from the glass, one of the pieces still in her skin. At that just very moment the brothers were walking up the steps and Philippe almost run to her daughter. Bontemps was holding little Louis, as he had catched him in his run.

 

“No, don’t take the glass out until the doctor is ready to treat her. It is stopping the bleeding,” John said.  

 

Philippe stopped his hands and looked up at John; his face full of anger. He then turned around to his brother. “See, I told you!” He said, walking aggressively to him. 

 

Bontemps lead the way back into the palace to the room Marie Louise was staying in.  John sent Anderson to get his chest.  Once assured that the nearest doctor was in the village, John decided that the little girl could not wait. He opened the chest and poured alcohol on his hands and a pair of tweezers. 

 

Philippe was almost in panic, screaming to anyone who tried to get near her; even the chevalier had stopped trying to calm him down. He was ranting about his brother, blaming him for everything: bringing the children, constructing the palace… just like when Henriette died.

 

“Your Highness,” John said calmly. “Hold Marie’s hands still. This will hurt.”  

 

His words made him almost jump to her daughter and hold her between his arms, like as he had suddenly calmed down. But anyone who knew him should be aware, he could jump back and bite at any minute. The little girl’s hand trembled and the tears still were falling from her eyes.

 

John sprayed a cloth lightly and held it near the girl’s face.  “Lavender,” she said. 

 

“Yes, that’s right,” John replied. Hoping that if she did not understand English at least his tone would be reassuring. He signalled one of the female servants over and she came reluctantly near.  “Hold this here.”  

 

Philippe translated.  Then John started removing the fine shards of glass from her hands. Everytime she gasped with pain she breathed in the calming lavender. “Send someone for honey from the kitchen.”

 

“Honey, what for?” Philippe asked, in a urge, looking at the servant out the room. It looked that the little princess was better than her father to keep calm.

 

“Once I am sure that there is no more glass in the wounds, I will cover her hands in honey and then we will put her gloves on,” John told Philippe. “She must keep the gloves on for 3 days.”  

 

Philippe nodded and looked at the hands he was holding between his, full of small cuts. After a second he jumped up again and walked towards his brother, who was looking from a distance. “See? Look at what you’ve done” he moved away in anger “That’s enough, we are leaving from this palace, it’s cursed”

 

Once John had dressed Marie’s hands he put one drop from a small bottle in a glass of water and held it to her lips.  

 

“What is that?” Louis demanded seeing the action over Philippe’s shoulder. 

 

“If I am not mistaken it is the same thing that the chevalier carries around and keeps sipping.  But I have only given her one drop. She will sleep peacefully tonight. There will be no scars, provided you do not remove her gloves for three days and don’t get the gloves wet.”  

 

The chevalier walked a step back into darkness when Philippe almost killed him with his eyes. Monsieur then walked towards John. “Thank you for your help” he put his hand on his shoulder “It’s good to have someone reasonable around here”

 

***

 

John got back to his room where Sherlock was waiting for him.  “Those two get along about as well and you and your brother,” John commented. 

 

“Or you and your sister?” Sherlock asked. 

 

“I think I would rather go back to treating a battlefield full of wounded soldiers.”  

 

(Thought of a little monsieur/chevalier scene in my way back from work)

**

The chevalier breath deeply, leaning on a chair, smiling and frowning at the same time while Philippe walk back and forth from his wardrobe to a trunk; moving his clothes away while he kept on screaming and yelling at the decisions of his absent brother.

 

“See what he got? He managed to get Marie hurt… What if it was his son?” He stop for a second to look at his partner “The whole palace would go crackers” went back to his work of pulling clothes out. “We  _ are  _ leaving to Saint-Cloud, we are taking the girls with us, and we are never coming back, no marriage no nothing.”

 

The chevalier sight and made his way next to Philippe, trying to stop him for a second, not being able to. “Ok, we will leave.” He turned around on his feet to keep on looking at him everytime he went back and forth “But for god sake, you’re the prince of France. What are you doing making your own baggage?” he wondered. This last question made Monsieur stop at his way back to the wardrobe and he looked at the trunk.

 

“There’s no way you going to get yourself to Saint-Cloud at this time at night and Marie and Anne are sleeping” the chevalier continued “Can you not go to sleep and be mad tomorrow morning, when everyone can notice?” he took a step closer “And I’m not the only one to be yelled at?” he smiled and reached his hand to him.

 

Philippe took a deep breath at gave in and walked towards his hand. The chevalier helped him take of his coat, he had not undress himself from the party clothes as he was in too much anger; and then he reached to massage his shoulders. The prince closed his hands, he had not notice how tense he was.

 

***

Philippe showed up as promised John to see the maps of Sherrin and advice on the defence of the small country.  Louis was there, of course, but Philippe declined to even acknowledge his presence.  

 

There were two maps, neither indicated the actual size of the islands. “This is Sherrin and this is Holmes. Between the two islands lays a landbridge at low tide.  Sherrinford. It gives easy access between the two islands. The only way on or off the islands is at high tide and then you must time it exactly right. This side of Sherrin, the English side is a sheer cliff into deep sea.  There is no way to bring a ship in close enough for any force to climb the cliff. The southern and eastern sides of the island are inaccessible due to the Witch’s Towers, a labyrinth of rock towers, mostly underwater where even the smallest boats flounder,” John was telling them.

 

“Best fishing spot if you can avoid getting your line caught on the rocks,” Sherlock added. 

 

“You can’t swim to shore from there. Not only are the waters shark infested but the surface of the water is like a massive fishing net from all the lines that have been lost. To the north is the ford to Holmes,” John continued. 

 

He stopped to pull the other map over. “It is the smaller of the two.  The seafloor is much shallower around Holmes. Ships cannot come near. No canon has ever reached the shore, which is extremely rocky and along with the roughness of the seas, few boats survive to shore. So the sea which some would think makes us vulnerable is what protects us.”

 

“And the ford between the two islands?” Philippe asked. 

 

“That is where Arthur, our king would like your advice.  The lands here on Holmes are swamp, salt water swamp.” John pointed to the map. 

 

“We have a bit of trouble with footrot in our cows in that area,” Sherlock added. 

 

“You run sheep and cows on the same land?” Louis asked. 

 

“No, Sire. Cows on Holmes and sheep on Sherrin,” Sherlock replied.  

 

“So your only vulnerability is the ford,” Philippe commented as he looked over the maps. “Which is open to the channel east and west so it is salt water.”

 

“When the tide is out we can walk across in the middle. No ship can pass from one side to the other. When the tide comes in, it does so with speed and strength, enough to have drowned many who foolishly dared to cross when the high tide is expected.  The water rushes in from both sides. It has eroded down to the bedrock. So we cannot dig it deeper to allow boats to pass through.  There is a port here and one here, so the ships which bring supplies from England do not enter French waters.”

 

“You are closer to France than to England,” Philippe surmised even though there was nothing on either map that would indicate their exact position in the channel. 

 

“Yes,” Sherlock said. “Our lifelines are our vulnerability.”

 

“You could stage a battalion at each port as a deterrent and first line of defence,” Philippe said. 

 

John and Sherlock looked at each other with gazes that were not hopeful.  With a sigh of resignation Sherlock admitted. “Your Highness, we couldn’t raise a single battalion. Since we regained our independence our main defense has been that we have nothing of value. And we only regained our independence because we have nothing of value.”  

 

“If you have nothing of value…” the king started, getting a bit on his nerves “what are you planning to defend your selfs from?” he started to patter with his fingers on the table, suspecting that these new incomers where up to no good.

 

“From anyone wishing to add more ground to their own country. England and France have been fighting over our islands ever since England and France have existed,” Sherlock replied. 

 

Philippe burst out laughing. “You want me to reveal how I would direct the troops if I was invading your country.”  

 

“The Spanish have been rumoured to be interested in obtaining a port closer to France’s shore, and there are other countries who are similarly interested. 

 

“But if ships can’t access your coasts, neither Spain or England could keep their navy there for long” the king replied, still not convinced “And I can’t think of other countries with a navy strong enough”

 

“Somewhere in the archives of England is the key to accessing our ports.  Somewhere here there is the key to accessing our ports. It has been done many times before we have no reason not to believe it will not be so again. English ships dock twice a year at the western port bringing supplies.”

 

“Get yourself a navy” the king concluded, almost as a joke.

 

“My father did.  Yours and England’s,” Sherlock replied. 

 

“If you think that Charles and I have any time to give protection to a… country like yours, you’re wrong” He said, moving around the table, pointing at the maps with his hands “We do have better matters to fight for further north”

 

“Brother please, don’t be stupid” Philippe said, the king looked up at him with anger in his eyes “Do you really think the english will be your ally forever?”

 

John started to roll up the maps. He tied them securely with red ribbon. 

 

“How far is it to Holland?” Sherlock asked John.  

 

“We made a treaty with England when you married Henriette, and we have her heirs with us” the king answered his brother.

 

Philippe’s flipped from his brother to John and the maps, wanting to stop them but also wanting to kill his brother. “that means nothing! You’re family to half of Europe and that doesn't make them your friends” he screamed at him “I myself beaten your wife’s brother in battle!”

 

The King had enough and bursted out of the room. Philippe followed him with his eyes, then he turned back to John and Sherlock.

 

“Please forgive him. Sometimes it seems he’s not the sensible king he is…”

 

“Why is he jealous of Sherlock?” John asked.  

 

“We aren’t asking for anything that isn’t already in our treaty.  We are not asking that you attack England. The treaty states that if England should invade us, then France would defend us.  The treaty we have with England is the same. England is bound to protect us if France decided to add our islands to it’s shores,” Sherlock said. “If you will excuse me, I must write to my mother.”  

 

John waited for Sherlock to leave, then held up the maps.  “Shall we, now that there are only soldiers in the room.”

 

“I thought you said you are a doctor?”

 

“One can be both.”  

 

“You look like a box full of surprises, monsieur” he said, moving back to the table as a sign that he wanted to keep on the conversation.

 

“Don’t worry, Sherlock has no intention of going to the Dutch.  But I fear that your King and Sherlock have similar temperaments.”

 

“I believe my king… brother, is only one side minded, and for know he is obsessed with the dutch and this… stupid palace, where everyone tries either to kill themself or to kill other people…” Philippe said, leaning on the table.

 

John unrolled the maps.  “Which brings me to another matter. The Chevalier takes far too much of his potion.  I have treated many soldiers for this.  Given as a sedative or for pain, if the patient continues to take it or is given too much, it is difficult to stop. If he is interested or you think it would be in his best interest to perform a small deception, I can cure him.”  

 

Philippe took a deep breath at looked at the floor then back up at him “I don’t know what kind of fun they have at Italy, but he brought that habit from there. I can try and tell him, but the chevalier is one free mind, and wont do much if he thinks it’s the idea of another man.” he looked back at the maps. “But i thank you for offering help”

 

“Tonight as he sleeps, add one drop of water to the bottle.  Tomorrow add two and continue to do this.  Soon enough he will not be getting the result that he had before. Suggest to him if he says anything that you had heard that after a while the effect is not so strong.”

 

“That sounds far too easy. What if he goes and looks for something stronger? At least this doesn’t kill him…” he hesitated “does it not?”

 

“If he continues, it might just do that. This method will cure his dependence on the potion and he will believe that the water in the bottle is just as good as the potion itself. Each time he refills the bottle you must ensure that he gets the same mixture of potion and water. It has worked for hundreds of soldiers.” 

 

“I’ll give it a try” he smiled “Thank you. Again” He walked around the table “You’re not a common doctor, are you?”

 

“I studied the likes of these potions and I have had to improvise my own to counter them.  Sherlock is all too prone to try anything new he can get his hands on and I am charged with his health. His mother is a strong healthy woman and his brother is not likely to either produce an heir or live long enough to become king. Sherlock chooses to ignore the signs.” 

 

“What is the problem with these kings nowadays? Louis seems to prefer having sons of france with all of his mistress than getting a second runner up to the throne with his queen”

 

John laughed softly.  “Nothing puts a man off half as fast as a woman who prays.”

 

“Or a woman. Full stop.” He glances at the maps. “Should we keep on with the defence of the islands?” 

 

“Please.”

**

 

Down at the dungeons of Versailles Fabien was skipping his eyes through papers and books when he heard a noise and looked up and out of the door. He frowned and got up from his chair, walking around the table and looking out the door. Sherlock was walking down the stairs.  “I’m looking for Monsieur Fabien Marchal.”

 

“You’re looking at him…” He looked up and down the man, wondering if he had met him before, and if maybe he was the man everyone was talking around Versailles “... Your Highness?”

 

“I understand you have a mystery poisoner.  I’m bored and when I am bored I solve mysteries.” 

 

Marchal hesitated and gave him a sided look. “Murders are not something to have fun with…” he said.

 

“I disagree. Solving murder is the most fun I have had in...well since I solved the last murder.”

 

“Are you not a king, or prince?” he asked, still not believing his words.

 

“I’m the spare prince.”

 

“And you solve murders as amusement… I though kings and princes liked riding or hunting as hobbies”

 

“Perhaps not amusement.  But murders are by far the best stimulus of the mind.”

 

Fabien rose his eyebrows and moved a bit away from the door, making a sing with his arm allowing Sherlock to come in. “So. What was that murder you solved?” He wanted to check if what he said was true or just cracyness.

 

“My dear Dr Watson’s wife.  She received word from England that an acquaintance of hers had been murdered and suddenly left for France.  John was distraught that she had abandoned him and their baby. I was certain from the message that she left that she had done so because she feared that the murderer would kill John as well as her. That she might have confided some important information to her husband. Having found her we went to England to find this murderer, one cannot leave a murderer running loose threatening people. Unfortunately at the same time that we found her, the murderer was a woman, Mary put herself in harm’s way to save my life. So not fun at all, but thoroughly stimulating.”

 

It took a lot of concentration for Fabien to follow the fast words of Sherlock in his foreign accent, but he was indeed amazed by the story. He really didn’t know what to answer so he rounded the table and looked at his papers.

 

“Looks like you can give us some help then” he flipped the pages of his note book “We found Madame’s murderer and beat him, but since then, poison has been on the menu every day. Most of the times facing inheritances or promotions.”

 

“Princess Henrietta?” Sherlock asked. “Did this man give you any information?” 

 

“The actual poisoner was one of her servants. But no, the man who had it all planned said nothing. But there’s a big suspicion that the powers and spies are coming from the Dutch, under the hand of William D’Orange”

 

“A young man who aspires to be as great a king as Louis,” Sherlock commented. “In which case making an example of the poisoner would only fuel the jealousy. I admire what your king is trying to achieve here but the fluctuation of power among your nobles is detrimental to both Versaille and your king. It would be best to try to stem the tide at the source.” 

 

Fabien took a deep breath “Obvious. France was a much better place when the nobles had only their lands to worry about. Gathering them here all together has made them aware of the levels of power. And although the rules of protocole have helped in some way, people feel threatened.” 

 

“The level of poisonings and other murders might only be exaggerated by having them all in one place. It might not be the number of incidents that has grown but the simply the location has narrowed.”

 

“The palace is killing them… that sounds so Monsieur” he almost whispered. “In any case, if noble people get killed at Versailles, other nobles don’t want to come, and that makes the King angry.”

 

“Hmmm...We don’t have this problem in my country. We don’t have such a complex system of nobles.  We have none of this,” he waved at the ceiling indication the palace above. 

 

“Well here is the base of community living, and life has an order thanks to titles and protocol.”

 

“As it must in order for such a big country to continue.  I think I shall start my investigation by inquiring around the court for various powders and potions on the pretence of introducing them to my country. No merchant could resist a new market, especially if they do not realize how small a market that would be.”  

 

Marchal was surprised at his intentions of really getting into the matter. “That sounds like a perfect place to start.”

 

“I am sure you have your own line of enquiry.  I will of course, report any progress to you.” He glanced through the door at the opposite end of the room.  “Might I see where you question your suspects?”

 

Marchal hesitated at first and then led Sherlock to a room not far away. It was a medium size room with one only tiny window. There was no furniture and the walls were bare brick. From the ceiling hung a few chains and there was a heavy one chair and matching table in the middle of the room. On the table you could see a leather case with iron instruments. Fabien looked around and then looked at Sherlock.

 

“I bring the dangerous ones here” he tilted his head “If its about servants and palace workers I normally speak with them in my office, where you have just been; or anywhere if its urgent…”

 

Sherlock smiled as he walked around the room.  “My wife would love this.  If you should need help in questioning any of your suspects especially the women, do not hesitate in asking Irene. And perhaps my wife and I might borrow the room one evening?”

 

“Your… wife?” he asked. A couple of women from the royalty came to his mind: the queen, Henriette, Montespan… he could not imagine them walking around the dungeons. “I don’t see why not…” it was not going to be him who said no to a foreign prince.

 

“Sometimes it is not the mind but the body that needs stimulation.  Her methods have been quite effective on me, as evidenced by the existence of my son.  Though I think your methods would produce scarring if not death.”   

 

Fabien nodded and then frowned again “Probably…” he was not sure what to say or even if he had to answer. He was not even sure if he knew what Sherlock was talking about. “The methods here are normally to hurt people and get information from them. But Versailles is big and full of people with various taste. I’m sure you’ll find someone who can help you… and your wife” He looked at Sherlock in tension, watching for his reaction.

 

“It depends on who is being questioned as to whether they are hurt or pleased.  Irene can do both as suits the needs.”

 

“I would love to see if it possible to get a secret from a traitor’s mouth by giving them pleasure” he said, in disbelief. 

 

“Then you have never been questioned by my wife or the likes of her kind,” Sherlock said. “Thank you for the tour.” Sherlock said and then was promptly gone. 

 

Fabien followed him with his eyes and frowned when he was gone. ‘What a weird man…’ he thought, and then walked back to his office.

  
  
  


The midday meal was as perplexing to Sherlock’s people as dinner had been the night before. People wandered around the massive hall with plates of food seeming picked at random from the serving plates on long tables.  The servants seemed to be in a non ending progression of delivering food.  Sherlock stood holding an empty plate, which John eventually took from him and handed him a plate with actual food on it.  “You must eat something,” John told him. 

 

“I thinking.  Digestion slows the brain.”

 

“Not liking the french food much?” the chevalier asked them, approaching them nibbling on a macaroon, with a glass of wine on his other hand.

 

“I don’t know what I’m eating,” Sherlock replied.  He picked up a small pastry.  “What is this?” 

 

“It’s a sweet. A biscuit.” he answered. “Goes well with fruit, and wine” He left his macaroon at a table and reached for a glass of wine to give it to Sherlock.

 

Sherlock nibbled at the biscuit. “It is sweet.  What is in it?” 

 

The chevalier’s smile dropped “Do I look like a cook?” he smiled again “It’s nice, just eat it!”

 

“I am trying to identify what makes it so sweet.  It has no taste of fruit,” Sherlock replied. 

 

“It’s something called sugar,” John informed him.  “It is much like crystalized honey.”  

 

“It’s a conservant for food, actually; from the India I think” Philippe said from nowhere “Are you intimidating everyone with your happiness again” he asked, looking at the chevalier.

 

“I believe it is in much demand in the English court, but it is far too expensive for anyone else,” John added. 

 

“A pleasure only gods can have” The chevalier said, and urged Sherlock to eat it.

 

“At home we eat, cold meats, bread and cheese during the day.”

 

“Lot’s of cheese,” John told them. “When he does eat.”  

 

“Sounds wonderful” the chevalier said, lying. He was a lover of sweets. He reached for some grapes.

 

Sherlock was intrigued now and tried other things on his plate. John was impressed when Sherlock handed him the empty plate and asked for more. 

  
  


Philippe walked closer to John, with not a happy face. “I… wanted to wish you luck at… your talks with my brother” he looked around, thinking of his words; as he was not even sure himself “We are leaving to Saint-Cloud”

 

“If Marie has any more pain with her hands, one drop in a full glass of fresh water before bed.  No more. I’m sure you know where to find that one drop,” John told him.  

 

Philippe hinted a side smile

 

“Oh, you can’t leave yet,” Sherlock said quietly. “We have barely learn how to behave at this court and who else is going to teach us without making us look foolish?” 

 

“Oh I would love to!” the chevalier answered.

 

“Translation,” John said. “He has no idea how to talk to women and he is terrified.” 

 

“Don’t follow his methods...” Philippe looked at the chevalier and laughed “If you do you would never get a woman to be interested” 

 

“Is it necessary for me to talk to these women?  I would not want them to think I am interested in them.” Sherlock said. 

 

“What are you interested in then?” the chevalier wondered, with an inquisitive look. Philippe looked at him with a not very happy face.

 

Sherlock glanced at John without turning his head. He then hooked his arm in the chevalier’s and walked them away from John and Philippe.  “I understand that there are certain powders and potions to be had from the right people to stimulate the mind and body.”  

 

“I know it isn’t my place to tell a Prince what to do, but I am going to give you my advice anyway. I would prefer you stayed until I can examine Marie’s hands again. As for the talks with the king, it is your opinion on the defense that we wanted, not your brother’s. Thirdly, everyone here seems to be under the impression that this is just a visit.  We have come to live here, unless your brother decides to break the treaty,” John pointed out. 

 

Philippe listened at Johns words quietly and then looked back at the salon while he thought “The King has this special power to make me think he needs me and afterwards he just takes my things and my powers for his own pleasure. Probably, even if we end up deciding about the defences, he won’t let us carry on with the plans without saying they're his”

 

“But we know better,” John replied. 

  
  


Louis took the message from Bontemps and read it. Now he knew why they were there.  He needed time to think about what he would do.  He would start by rereading the treaty, studying the detail and looking at the record of everything that had been sent to their islands from France. Then he would decide if they were worth it. After all what did it matter to him if France supported a few more people.  

 

“In my personal opinion, sire” Bontemps started “They look like a pretty normal family” he thought about his words for one second “decent, I would say. They still have a bit to learn about protocole and french manners, but…”

 

“They are here because their people cannot feed them,” Louis replied. “It was a bad winter for them and most of their sheep and cows have died. They won’t be able to make any cheese this year. They won’t even have enough wool for new clothes. England has already been supporting their Crown Prince for 20 years. Apparently it is France’s turn to support the other half of the family.”

 

“And do you know the reason why France and England fought over it for so many years?”

 

“England invaded during the Hundred Years War. They used it as a staging ground for their army, a supply depot. Reinforcements could be housed there and called up more quickly than bringing them across the channel.”

 

“Good job that England is our allie now” he almost said in irony. “But letting a foreign prince and his family stay at Versailles would be good for your majesty's reputation; as it was with the Lorraines or the Rohans”

 

"Well, they are here now and so we must keep them, for now.  Find some people to teach them all how things are done around here. And someone to each that heathen doctor how to speak,” Louis told him.  

 

“May I suggest, Sire; you can give that matter to the man who decided them?”

 

“Send for my brother.” Louis saw the chance to get Philippe to stay awhile longer. 

 

Bontemps made a sign to one of the guards and he left. It didn’t take long for him to come back with Monsieur behind.

 

“Yes?” he said when he reached the end of the table.

 

“I understand that you wanted to leave today,” Louis said. 

 

“I don’t want, I am” he responded, in a challenging way, hands hooked behind himself and blank face. 

 

“No, you are not. You have new duties at Versailles.”

 

“Oh, I have? What an honor…”

 

“The Prince of Sherrin and his family are under our protection and we must make them as comfortable as possible in Versailles. That includes improving their French, their manners and teaching them court protocol.  Since you had such a hand in creating the rules, I am making you responsible for teaching these foreigners how to obey them.”  

 

“You have a lot of people who knows all the rules by heart” he glanced at Bontemps “This is just a momentary invention to keep me here, have you not got anything better, brother?”

 

“Prince Sherlock is hardly the type of person who would listen to a foreigner beneath his station. So I want you to personally tutor him.  Use whoever else you need to do the same with everyone of his people.  By the end of the year I want at least half of his people converted to a godly position and able to speak a civilized language.”

 

Philippe tilted his head, he could maybe be right, but that didn’t make him happier about staying “I’ll do my part” he pointed at Louis “but don’t think that means I’m staying forever. I’m leaving afterwards, to live my own life, not what you want me to live.”

 

Louis nodded. He knew he couldn’t hold Philippe forever but he could not say what he felt in his heart. They both knew that Philippe would one day carve his name in history. The prince turned around and walked fast out the room, through the doors that opened just at the moment. 

 

Sherlock was standing there.  He looked worried. “May I see the king?” 

 

Philippe stopped and looked at him, maybe this was the moment to start his classes. He looked back at the door, which was closed. “You’ll have to ask for permission first” He moved his hand to point at a servant who stood next to the guards at the door. “They’ll ask and announce you If he agrees”

 

Sherlock nodded and went to the servant. Philippe hesitated between walking away or staying to try and listen to the conversation.  Sherlock was let in to see the king and Philippe followed. 

 

“Your Majesty,” Sherlock bowed slightly.  “I have received a letter from home. The English have refused to give us aid, as is their right, of course, since they have already delivered what is required by them within the treaty. But it strands my brother in London since there is no ship to bring him home.”

 

“We can’t send a ship to London just to bring him home,” Philippe answered. 

 

“Of course, not. But...the people of Sherrin are starving. My mother has fallen ill. If she dies, my brother will become King and he favours the English.  As he is trapped in London, I have no doubt that at the moment of my mother’s death Sherrinford will become English lands.”

 

The King didn’t answer immediately, thinking about his words while playing with a quill in his hands. Suddenly he stand up on his chair.

 

“We will rewrite the treaty.” He finally said to Sherlock “We’ll change the parts, excluding england and we’ll provide more to your country”

 

Philippe shook his head, why was his brother so against helping one minute and so fond of it the next one. 

 

Sherlock smiled, almost laughed with happiness. “They need a shipment as soon as possible. My mother is ill because she has been giving her food to the children.” 

 

The King turned to Bontemps “Start getting a shipment ready with all that a small country can need” then he turned back to Sherlock again “We will tell our ministerst to start to negotiate a change in the treaty and it will be sent to your queen with the needs, by someone of your confidence.”

 

“Mrs Hudson. She is homesick and misses her sister. I am sure my wife can cope without her,” Sherlock replied. “She has my complete trust.” 

 

“Perfect then” he walked around the table and reached to Sherlock, putting a hand on his back “It will be a start of a new and reinforced friendship”

 

“You’re mad” Philippe said, and walked away from the room.

 

“Your brother does not approve.”

 

“Oh, I’m sure he does.” the king smiled “It’s more a thing against me that you”

 

“It is so between my brother and I. The truth of the situation, as we both know, is that whether my people receive food, flee the country or die of starvation, we must capitulate to a greater force. My brother would have us become part of England. I would have us become part of France. Because in the end, if we all die of starvation, one or the other of you will claim the land.”   

 

“And is this a decision taken by a reason or just by chance?” the king asked, wondering the reasons his brother had to stay in England.

 

“You will find, Your Majesty, that I am ruled by reason.  I will write a letter to my mother explaining why I asked you for help and encourage her to consider the new treaty with a mind to the survival of our country and our people. And I will instruct my people here to be as cooperative as possible with your Majesty and his emissaries. We will blend into your vision of Versailles.”  

 

“I appreciate that very much. My brother has told me it will be an honour for him to show your highness the ways in the palace, and he much would like to help you and your people comfortable with the life here as soon as possible” he lied, with a smile.

 

“That would be much appreciated, Sire.  I was unaware of my deficiency in French until I came to your shores.  I was taught French by an English tutor and thus I speak it with an English accent.”  

 

“It’s just a matter of time to get used to accent here. But I do have to say that yours is the best french from all your men” And he laughed at his own joke. 

 

Sherlock smiled. “Agreed. Perhaps you would agree to provide a tutor for them?”  

 

“Yes, Versailles its big and full of very intelligent people. We will find someone for each of you. And the children, as being the same age, they can share governess, it would be an honour for all of them to study together”

 

Bontemps spoke then “Speaking of that matter sire, Madame d’Montespam wanted to see you, and asked if you could attend her”

 

Sherlock bowed.  “And women do not liked to be kept waiting, even by a king.” 

 

“And this one less than the others… It truly looks like a impatient king is growing in her” he said, raising his eyebrows.

  
  


“Are you out of your mind?” John demanded when Sherlock got back to the salon, John dragging him aside. 

 

“Not here.”

 

Philippe observed the scene from a distance, still mad about his conversation with his brother, he was sitting at a table trying to have something to eat, and saw Sherlock come back in the salons, he wondered what the king must have told him afterwards. He frowned when he saw them walk apart.

 

Sherlock surveyed the food on the serving tables, wondering when they stopped serving the midday meal and suspected that they never really stopped serving food. He was looking for something substantial, rather than sweets. 

 

Suddenly someone tripped and almost made Sherlock fall over, he reached his arms to hold a young girl in place. She looked up in surprise and then smiled at him, she looked cute with freckles on her face.

 

“Sorry, your highness” she said with her most charming voice, holding tight to the prince arm.

 

Philippe noticed out the corner of his eye that the one named LeStrade reacted to this and almost went to Sherlock.  So, a guard for the royal person, he surmised. 

 

“Do you need assistance to a chair?” Sherlock asked. 

 

“Oh, no thank you.” she giggled “It’s just these heavy dresses, sometimes it’s difficult to keep balance in them” she touched her light blue dress, and then looked back at the prince, without cutting the eye contact. “I’m Claire, Princesse d’Condé. I hope you’re enjoying your stay at Versailles”

 

"I am, your Highness.”

 

She smiled again, she must not be more than seventeen. “I’ve seen you’ve been talking with the chevalier d’Lorraine” she reached her hand into a pocket in the skirt of her dress “Maybe I can help your Highness to have even more fun”

 

“I am unfortunately without funds at the moment.”  Sherlock had forgotten completely about money to pay for such powders, which came from not needing any at home. He kicked himself for such an oversight.  

 

“Oh don’t worry about that, the first play it’s always free” the girl said and handed him her hand looking downwards, as asking for a kiss but in reality offering him a silver tin.

 

Sherlock took her hand and kissed it, taking the tin as he did. 

 

Philippe was still looking at the distance, and he sighed, the princess reputation was well known at Versailles. While John was helping him with curing the chevalier his lover was playing the same games. With this thought he turned to look at the room, looking for the chevalier in the crowd. As he couldn’t find him he got up to leave the room. That’s when he spotted Sherlock handing the tin over to John. He did it so casually that no one but Philippe noticed. John immediately left. 

 

Philippe changed his path and walked to Sherlock “I see you have met the Princesse d’Comté. She’s a very interesting young lady, isn’t she?”

 

"She does have certain talents that I am interested in.”

 

“Why?” he went directly to the matter, he was not in a mood to play word games.

 

“Because the Dutch might not be the only people poisoning people here and I do not want to die,” Sherlock was just as direct but quietly. 

 

“You think so?” he frowned, he had never thought about the poisonings at the palace and who took part of them really, he was losing too much of his time being mad at everyone since Henrietta had died that he really hadn’t thought of who killed her. “And are you going to find out?”

 

“Yes, I am.  You could help by secretly getting samples of every powder and potion available in the court,” Sherlock told him.  

 

Philippe shook his head “I don’t think it would be very clever from me to start asking for drugs around the palace, it would be very dubious”

 

“But you could ask the Chevalier to get them.” 

 

“Yes, I could… I guess” he walked a step closer “but, How are you going to know if these are poison?”

 

“Dr Watson and I will test them.”

 

“How? By giving random people a fifty percent chance to get high or dead?” he wondered, as he was not very much into medical knowledge. 

 

Sherlock almost laughed. “Your education is sorely lacking in some areas, Your Highness.  Come with me and I will show you how we test them.”  

 

“We’ll In my knowledge, only doctors study to be doctors” he said, as an explanation for his ignorance. And started walking him out of the room.

 

“You have a more interesting social life,” Sherlock replied. In Sherlock’s room, John was laying out the contents of his apothecaries box. He knew that Sherlock would be upset if he solved the mystery before he got there so he stalled until Sherlock arrived.  He did not expect Philippe to be with him. 

 

Philippe was driven by curiosity immediately and walked to the table looking at the things on it and wondering what all of them were used for. “I found it amazing that one only man can enjoy the brutality of war and the delicacy of medicine…” he said to John, as a compliment.

 

“I do not enjoy the brutality of war. But it exists and it would be unreasonable to pretend that it doesn’t. In some cases, Your Highness, medicine is more brutal.”

 

“Let’s show the Prince how we detect poisons.”  Sherlock prepared a sample of the contents of the tin. 

 

Philippe looked closely at what they where doing, quite amazed, he was not used to see people from a royal family do those kind of activities, it was normally all about literature or horse riding or playing piano… 

 

“Why did it do that?” he asked, very curious, when Sherlock spilt some liquid onto the sample of the powder.

 

“If the liquid turns red there is arsenic in the powder.  The depth of colour will show how much. A small amount of arsenic will not kill or even make a person sick. Many lady’s powders contain arsenic as a beauty enhancement.”

 

“Arsenic?” that sounded horrible. “What happens if there is a lot of it in the powder?”

 

“Then the liquid will be a deep red and this powder is a poison,” Sherlock told him.  He held up the glass vial.  “Only a touch of arsenic.” He then prepared another test. He dropped a small sample onto the inside of a freshly killed pelt. It brought the blood to the surface.  “I think that this is only an aphrodisiac. But there are more tests in case there is some other poison in the powder.”  He handed it over to John to perform further tests. 

 

He followed the liquid with his eyes, frowning. “How does arsenic kill someone? Is it arsenic what killed my wife?”

 

“I don’t think so,” John said. “There are many poisons.” 

 

“Oh…” he assent. He then kept silent for some minutes looking at them working. Now wondering what other things were being used around the castle, remembering the party nights where young girls walked around putting drops in peoples glasses; he promised himself he was not going to drink from a glass that was given to him ever again.

 

“The Chevalier uses morphine sulphate in liquid form. It helps with pain in small doses but can kill in larger doses,” John told him.  “He probably started taking it for a minor problem which has long since been cured. Both morphine sulphate and arsenic are used for toothache.” 

 

“Why would he use that? He has never been hurted” he said.

 

“That he has told you,” John added. 

 

He frowned, trying to remember what was the last time the chevalier complained about pain.

 

“Finished.  It’s nothing more than an aphrodisiac,” John informed. 

 

“Brilliant, now the entire court will think I cannot…” Sherlock said waving his hand at his genitals. 

 

John laughed. 

 

“Well that's what’s the princesse Claire is well known for” Philippe told him and smiled “everyone wonders why she’s never got pregnant, some say she’s a witch. She even tried on me.”

 

“There are herbs which can get rid of a pregnancy if they are taken early enough and in the correct dose,” John told him. 

 

“Many women who have knowledge of herbs are accused of being witches but really most good doctors use the same herbs,” Sherlock replied.

 

Philippe looked horrified “What women would like to do that?” he thought, “children are always a need, and boys even more.”

 

“I am hoping for a girl this time and then all my people will be happy,” Sherlock said. 

 

“Girls can always be married to be excellent queens, you never know about boys…” Philippe said with a smile.

 

“Oh, you don’t understand.  Our country is matriarchal.  If I have a girl she will be the heir to the throne,” Sherlock told him.   

 

“Oh well, that IS different. But i don’t see why not, as i said, women do make excellent queens”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All is not what it seems.

 

It was three days later when Sherlock and John were in one of the salons. John was playing cards while Sherlock was scribbling in a notebook, trying to avoid the attentions of everyone. But he got the attention of everyone when he suddenly collapsed. John turned around and looked at where the people around was looking; he jumped up from his chair and approached Sherlock on the floor.

 

“Sherlock?” he said, with a calm but shaky voice. He took his hand to check his pulse, slow but still going. He had fainted but he didn’t know the reason. He reached to the pocket of his jacket and took a small bottle. He opened it and held it close to his nose, the smell should get him going.

 

Sherlock coughed and roused but he seemed weak.  John helped him to his feet and half carried half led him away to his room.  Lestrade rushed in to help. Anderson, Sherlock’s valet put him to bed and John examined him for any signs of poisoning but there were none. 

 

“Anderson, what did Sherlock last eat?” John asked. 

 

“Nothing,” Anderson said. “He hasn’t asked for anything for days.”

 

“You idiot!” John turned on Sherlock. “Starving yourself will not help the people at home.”

 

“Everytime I ate something, I thought about the families at home who have nothing. Everytime I drank something I thought about the babies with no milk,” Sherlock told him.

 

“You are an idiot!” John repeated. 

 

“It is so disturbing to be here, there’s always food everywhere, every corner there’s a servant with a jar” Sherlock looked at nowhere, thinking, with an absent look. Wondering how was it possible. “Even here, if you take a walk to the village there's people living in the streets…” he suddenly stopped talking as a thought came to his head from when they where walking around.

 

“There will always be rich and poor, Sherlock. Living your whole life in the castle on Sherrin has kept you from seeing what the world is really like,” John replied. “In Sherrinford the misfortune of one is the misfortune of all but that isn’t so in the rest of the world.”  He turned to Anderson. “Bring a plate of food, and not all that sweet stuff that they like so much here. Bring meat and cheese and bread.” 

 

Sherlock had stopped listening a few sentences ago, John looked at him and frown, he could see his mind running. “What?” he said to him. Sherlock almost jumped from the bed and walked in circles around the room.

 

“Why haven’t we thought about the streets?”

 

“Streets?” John asked.  “What about the streets?”

 

“Well…” he turned to him “It is very likely that the drugs people have here are not created here… it’s likely that people form the village, people with much less of an economy uses these drugs for other reasons, even some people work with them to try and get an economy.”

 

“I would think so.  That is generally how commerce works. But they would charge the nobles a lot more than the villagers. Putting the powders in those silver containers. A doctor would most likely buy the stuff in bulk. But what has that got to do with not eating?”

 

“What..? Nothing,” Sherlock replied. 

 

“Sherlock answer me truthfully.  How you been using these drugs?”

 

“Don’t be absurd. I’m trying to find a poisoner.”

 

“Yes, but the powders that we have cleared of poison?” 

 

“I need my head clear.”  

 

“Not eating is not going to help, you need energy to think too”

 

Sherlock shook his head “It has nothing to do with that. Why are you suddenly so obsessed with food?” he kept on walking back and forth. Anderson walked in with two servants behind him, bringing plates of food and setting them on the table. “What if someone is changing the drugs for poison… from outside, someone who knows that  _ this _ is happening?” he pointed to all the food on the table.

 

“Your food has been tasted. It’s safe to eat,” Anderson told him. 

 

“Sherlock, sit down and eat. That’s an order from your doctor.”  

 

Sherlock obeyed and sat down taking a piece of cheese in his hand and giving it a bite “But do you understand what I’m telling you? Have you listened?”

 

“Yes, and I think not eating has slowed down your thinking. Someone is replacing the fairly harmless powders with poison, or at least that is how they are getting them into the palace. But that doesn’t get us any closer to who.”  

 

“The recreative drugs can be bought easily in the palace, that’s obvious... “he remembered Claire “But someone must be going to the village or Paris to bring them here, probably a nobleman… or women. And probably they don’t wear boring wool clothes to go unnoticed. ” he was thinking while taking a bite of a piece of bread. “People would know they're coming from here…”

 

“You need to talk to the Chevaliar again,” John told him.  “He knows more than he is saying.”

 

“I don’t think he knows anything at all about poisons,” Sherlock replied. 

 

“But he knows a lot about everyone who lives here. Who takes drugs, who sells them… it looks like he is into gossip”

 

“I’m not good at talking to people.” 

“The chevalier would not speak to anybody. He might seem unwise and balmy, but he knows his powers and knows how to use them and what to say. It would take more than a few words to get him speak…” he said to him, hoping it would become a challenge for him.

 

“The Chevalier is a Duke.  The system of nobles here is rather strict.”

 

“That makes no difference, you’re a prince”

 

“John, you know as well as I do that Princes are just men.”

 

“And you have any other idea to find out then?” John replied. “I don’t see why you can’t try and talk to him”

 

“I’ll talk to him again. Anderson make me some tea.” Anderson rolled his eyes and stormed off. “We should start the classes in how servants should act in Versailles.” 

 

“You are going to eat and then go to bed to rest,” John told him. 

 

“Well, I wasn’t planning on starting the classes right now.”

 

John rolled his eyes “I meant about speaking to the chevalier” he thought twice “but… maybe that could be a good way of approaching conversation with him”

 

“What? Going to bed? The Chevalier is attractive, John, but you have my heart.” 

 

John shook his head and clench his fist, trying not to hit him. “No, the classes!”

 

“You want me to conduct the classes from bed?” Sherlock asked, now just teasing John. 

 

Now John looked at him with disbelief, it could not be possible. He took a deep breath. “Just, approach the chevalier with the excuse of french manners classes” he thought about what he said “Not now! You still need to rest.”

 

Sherlock stared at the piece of cheese in his hand.  “We make better cheese.”

 

“You’re homesick,” John said. 

 

“Of course not. I’m not a child.”

 

“Wise men never forget where they come from”

 

“We are here. And we are here to stay,” Sherlock said, but his voice gave him away. “Come to bed.” 

 

Sherlock stood up and walked to the bed, John followed with his eyes and sigh. “I should lest you to rest”

 

“I’ll rest, if you are near. Can’t hurt to have a soldier and a doctor near when people are getting poisoned.”

 

John said nothing else and followed with a smile.

 

***

 

“You’re welcome” the chevalier said to the young man in front of him, that walked away while he counted some coins in his hand and let them fall in his bag, with a smile.

 

“I hope that wasn’t poison,” Sherlock commented approaching the chevalier from behind.

 

“Just a little something to lighten the complexion.”

 

“It’s winter.”

 

“But a very handsome and pale Prince arrived from a foreign country and upped the stakes on beauty.”  he smiled at him while putting his money away “ and in reality, anything can be poison if you take too much, even water” he giggled a bit and hook his hands at his back. “People should know their limits. Want to try yours?” 

 

“No, I’m thinking. I don’t indulge while I am thinking. But you can help me and help yourself.  How long will it be before the King bans all these powders from court? How long before your source of income dries out? I can help you if you help me.”

 

“We’ll if you are keen to look at my closest friend, my income is not my biggest problem really” he tried to sound not troubled about the matter he had talked “But I can always give a hand to someone who needs help, if it’s possible…” 

 

“Where would my doctor go to restock his medicinal potions and powders? Something a little stronger than your face dustings.” 

 

“Well that’s a question to ask a doctor, not a random man who knows how to have fun” he said with a laugh and looked away. 

 

“Your doctors don’t use such things.”  

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, what things?” he tried to look unimpressed and foolish.

 

“I have a meeting with the King’s ministers this afternoon.  I wonder if they would know just how good a time you are having?”  

 

The chevalier’s face changed completely and he took sherlock by the arm to walk him apart into the corridor, out of the room full of people. “These kind of conversations are not ones to have in front of all court” he was not speaking in his happy normal tone anymore. “What are you exactly looking for? There's things you can buy at Versailles, but propper… drugs are only found at Paris”

 

“Where in Paris?” Sherlock asked quietly.

 

“There’s a market place near Latoneville. You can only get there by boat, it’s under the houses. I recon you can find whatever you want there, if you know what you want…” he said almost in a whisper “That’s what I’ve been told at least” he added, and touched his hair.

 

“There now, that wasn’t so hard. We are both the same here, your highness. Princes in a foreign land at the mercy of the King. I am sure that we can find many ways to help each other,” Sherlock told him. 

 

“ As I said, I’ll help in any matter I can.” he smiled back, relaxing a bit.

 

“Good, because Prince Philippe will need your help to teach my people the rules around here, and to do that they first will have to understand French and most of them only speak Gaelic.” 

 

“I’m not a language teacher” he said, rising his eyebrows “Can you not get a governess for that?”

 

“Do you know a governess who speaks French, English and Gaelic? And helped write the court etiquette?”

 

He hesitated a bit “I guess I can also help with that…” he finally said “A little manners would make a wonderful princess of your wife”

 

“Good luck with that. Though she has manners when she wants.”

 

“Women around here rule the world, but they work very hard in not letting us notice. It’s a women that you might be looking for in Paris, as its always women who are going to make you have a good time around the palace. Maybe using a woman would help you better at your investigations” he said, letting him know he had been watching out at his plans.

 

“An excellent idea,” Sherlock commented. Sherlock spotted John looking at him.  “I have to go. My people will be gathering for their first lesson in an hour. I hope to see you there.”  

 

He smiled again and bowed a bit before walking away down the corridor, with his hands hooked behind his back.

  
  


Louis looked out the window at the noise below and saw all of Sherlock’s people gathered. Sherlock addressed them in Gaelic. 

 

“We are going to be here for some time so there is no point in complaining.  You will all need to learn French and we will all need to learn our proper place, protocol and etiquette of the court.”

 

Philippe, who had reached the group followed closely by the chevalier, looked at Sherlock while speaking to them, with an amazed face He waited to be given the time to speak.

 

“Everyone who speaks neither French nor English move to the right and the others move to the left,” John addressed the gathering. Luckily most spoke some English or French.  

 

“So, what do you think is better to start with?” Philippe asked, he had not really prepared anything very thoughtfully.

 

“It will take them a while to learn French so we should start with your list of court etiquette.  Most of them can’t read so we will have to translate for them. The doctor speaks English and some French, LeStrade speaks both and can read both. I both speak and read enough to get by.” 

 

Philippe nooded and to a breath “So I guess giving some directions to how to live at court would be first, so people can walk around” he looked at the people in front of them “ So basic speaking to people at salons and such.” 

 

Sherlock glanced over the pages of rules.  “Most of these apply only to the classes which would be seen in the salons. John seems to be accepted only when I am present.  There are no nobles.” 

 

“You brought no nobles with you?” Philippe asked. 

 

“There are no nobles in my country.  There is the royal family and…”

 

“Peasants,” the chevalier finished. 

 

“No cousins?” Philippe asked. 

 

“I had an uncle but he tripped on the hem of his dress and fell of a cliff.”  

 

Philippe nodded with a sadish face “Well, classes then; we’ll start from the top. King and his family comes first, queen, dauphin, sons of france, monsieur, madame… and so on. And well, children he decides to legitimize” he rolled his eyes at the last thought “Foreign royal families go just under, and then it continues with duc, marquis, comte… etc. No one is allowed to speak directly to the king, queen or royal family if they have not talked to them first, and it’s kind of the same with the rest of the ranks, you shouldn’t speak first to a duc if you’re a comté; but in these last cases its normally only used at special events.”

 

John began translating to Gaelic for the gathering. There was immediately a lot of questions.  

 

“Quiet!” Sherlock yelled and the crowd fell silent. 

 

“They don’t know what these other nobles are,” Sherlock told Philippe. 

 

“We’ll it is about noble titles… that normally correspond to places in France, some have lands and men who work them so they have founds. Others are families that have lasted for years and it’s a title that owns lands, places and lots of power”

 

John did his best to translate but finally gave up and turned to Philippe in his broken French he told the Prince that they just didn’t understand that the land was owned by someone. 

 

Philippe was finding it so very difficult so he thought for a minute. “Well, if you ever get to the salons wait until someone approaches you to talk, that way you’ll be sure not to talk to a duc when you’re not allowed.” he pauses a second and turned to look at Sherlock “Well you can, speak to anyone you like really, besides the king and so…”

 

LeStrade approached them.  “Your…” he flipped through the rules, “Highness,” he addressed Sherlock.  “According to most of these rules, none of these people should come into contact with any nobles of the French court. These rules apply to very few of us.  In fact only four of us. You, of course. Doctor Watson, because he is always at your side. Her Highness as a Princess, and me as your head of security, as I might have reason to address others.  So long as the rest know not to talk to anyone other than another servant unless addressed first, there should be no problem. 

 

Philippe had an idea “Why don’t you invent the titles for your people? Give them some titles to be recognised with and they will be compared to the people with the same titles here.” He looked at the crowd. “Divide them and decide who should get best rankings. Even here at Versailles there are Duchesses that are ladies in waiting for Princesses.”

 

Sherlock sighed then addressed the people.  He told them that for now they were not to talk to any of the French nobles unless spoken to first.  He had no idea where to start to invent nobles. It was all so much easier at home. Everything here was so much more complicated. Though he had to admit to liking Versailles. The decor and gardens made it by far the most luxurious place he had ever seen even in books and paintings. He took the rule book off LeStrade and looked up how to excuse himself from the Princes. Then left them.  

 

“Sherlock!” John called after him. 

 

“Doctor,” LeStrade corrected him. “The proper form of address is your Highness.”  

 

The Chevalier and Philippe didn’t know what John said but they could guess by LeStrade’s face.

 

“Did I say something wrong?” Philippe asked them, wondering why Sherlock had gone like that.

 

“He does that. He needs to be alone to think. We are a distraction.  It’s not personal, your highness,” LeStrade replied. 

 

“You’re getting the hang of it quite quickly” The chevalier told him with a smile.

 

“I am French,” LeStrade told him.  

 

“So, does it say in there how a Frenchman should address a Scottish lord?” John asked. 

 

“Yes, it does, my lord,” LeStrade replied. 

 

“Then remember that.” John turned to look in the direction Sherlock took. “Shouldn’t you be going after him before he gets out of sight?” 

 

LeStrade sighed. “Yes, Sir.” And he walked quickly after him.

 

“So…” Philippe started talking “Shall we keep going or wait for the prince and continue at another moment?”

 

“I have found two women who speak english and french” the chevalier added, Philippe looked at him in surprise “they were part of Henriettes service” he added when he saw Philippe’s look “They could help these people learn some better french. Impossible to find someone who spoke… that other language.”

 

“Gaelic,” John replied. “It is what most Scottish and Irish speak. His Highness, Prince Sherlock is the only person I know who speaks all three.  I have some notes that he made but I don’t read French.” John continued in English. 

 

Philippe took the notes. “It says he wants the servants to know that they are not to gamble, not to use powders or potions, to stay sober and not to show lurid behaviour in public.”  

 

“We’ll that’s going to be a boring stay at Versailles” the chevalier said in a low voice.

 

“It also says that they are not to urinate or defecate in the gardens,” Philippe continued. 

 

John kept on translating to the group and they nodded and murmured between them, a young woman made her way to the front of the group to ask something, she spoke in a decent french.

 

“Can you read French?” John asked her. 

 

“Sort of, sir, my grandmother was french” she answered.

 

“It would seem that we still need someone to read the etiquette rules so I can translate. My apologies for the inconvenience, your highness,” John told Philippe.  

 

“It’s alright” Philippe flipped through the pages back to the rules.

  
  
  
  
  


Sherlock couldn’t stomach the midday meal, but he was sipping on a cup of tea, tea provided by the English, when Bontemps came to tell him that the ministers were ready to see him.     
  
“Gentlemen, I am Prince Sherlock of Sherrinford. This is Lord Watson of Scotland.” 

 

King Louis smiled and looked around at his ministers “We are here to discuss the changing of the treaty with Sherrinford” Now he looked at Sherlock “My ministers have changed some points under the circumstances that we spoke” he pointed to the papers next to Sherlock on the table “If you wish to read them”

 

Sherlock took the papers and read them quickly. He had studied the treaty intensely before he had come to France so he could easily see the changes. “The English will not like this.”

 

“I believe the English left your people to starve,” one of the ministers pointed out. 

 

“That they did, and with no explanation barring that they had already fulfilled the terms of the treaty.”

 

“If i can point out, Sire “ Luvois started to say to the King “I am afraid that the English may withdraw their supports to France in the war with the Dutch because of this new treaty”

 

“The English are more interested in that support than us, Luvois; they also need our help to get rid of William of Orange”

 

“My people are already at work to rid your court of any of his spies, Your Majesty,” Sherlock told him. 

 

“And your people can do better than ours?” one of the ministers asked. 

 

“Yes, because we are not you. Not being French is the advantage. The Scottish have no love for the English nor Spanish. My people easily pass as Scottish. We do after all speak the same language. We are the unknown and we already have access to William’s household, as well as many others in Europe.” 

 

“Great then, I think you already know Mister Marchal, with whom you can count in any help in those matters “ the king replied.

 

“Yes, I do.  There is something I would like added to this treaty.”

 

The king made a sign to him to keep on speaking. “Yes?”

 

“Glass.  We have no glass in Sherrinford. We use shutters and heavy drapes to keep out the sea wind.  I would see every house in Sherrinford provided with glass for their windows. I have been inspired by your exquisite palace, your majesty.” 

 

“You can’t possibly expect us to provide glass for every house,” one of the ministers protested. 

 

“Yes, I can,” Sherlock replied. 

 

“Glass” Louis started “and even more, this transparent glass, it’s very difficult to create and to transport. It could break on the way to Sherrinford and it would be too expensive. We could provide you with less refined glass, that is less see through but it’s more resistant and will help your people to hide from wind and rain more efficiently.”

 

Sherlock looked at Louis as if he was going to protest but then smiled. “And workers to install the glass. Workers who know how to handle glass.”  

 

“Of course” Louis answered with a smile and the ministers looked at him in surprise, why was he accepting all of it “The workers will take the glass and would install it.” he took a deep breath and looked at Sherlock in the eye “And they’ll come back just after” he added, with a calm voice but a blank face.

 

“There is also no mention of our cheese trade,” Sherlock pointed out. 

 

“What cheese trade?” a minister asked.

 

“Sherrinford has three major products; wool, fish and cheese. We have traded our fish on the coast of France for centuries. Our wool is fine and shipped all over Europe. I think Versailles would enjoy our cheese.” 

 

“I don’t see why not” the King agreed again, getting another look from his ministers. “So if it’s all been spoken, we can sign the treaty and send it to your queen to do so.”

 

“I will read the treaty again when the changes are made and commend it to my mother,” Sherlock told them. “We should meet again in private when I receive word that the treaty has been accepted by my mother.” 

 

The king face changed to a serious face, but his voice sounded calm. “Of course” and he walked away and through a door.

 

When Sherlock left one of the ministers asked the other why they thought that Louis was being so accommodating to this Prince. 

 

“Did you not listen?” Marchal asked. “He has access to many of the houses of Europe, including William of Orange. And their position is strategic.  Can you imagine William in control of an island off the coast of France?” 

 

“But how is it possible that such a small country has as much power as they say”

 

“The same way termites can destroy a palace and you would not notice” Marchal answered.

 

“They claim his older brother has been in London for over 20 years.”

 

“The Prince’s servants claim to not understand French. No one here speaks their language. How do we know what they are saying? They can be found all over Versailles with the excuse that they do not know their way around the palace yet.”  

 

“How do we know for sure if all these servants are not also spies? What if they all know french perfectly and they’re spying in the palace to tell William our secrets?”

 

“Our secrets should not be available,” Marchal said. “Any minister discussing the secrets of France in public is a traitor.” 

 

Most of them agreed and decided that was the last word to be said, they left the room to work on the new points of the treat. Fabien stayed for a minute, thinking of the words of the ministers, trying to decide himself if these foreigners were people to trust  or not. 

 

***

 

“Are these directions clear enough to find this woman?” Sherlock asked LeStrade.

 

“I’ll find the place, whether or not I can find the woman, we’ll see.”

 

“No mention of Sherrinford or me. I’d go myself but not only would that be too noticeable but my French is spoken with an English accent.”

 

“Leave it to me, your highness.”  

 

“Are you sure this is a good idea... “ John hesitated “Your Highness” it was an effort for him to use the new ways of addressing.

 

“No, it’s not a good idea, but this is the lady that the chevalier said to contact and we will not know how accurate his information is until someone goes.  Be prepared for it to be a trap.” 

 

“So, who do I want to poison?”

 

“Your wife’s lover.” Sherlock reminded him. 

 

“I do have to admit that’s clever…” Irene said, form a chair nearby “but I bet it would be the other way round in reality. Her killing his lover” she giggled.

 

“Thank you for that information,” John said. “Now Greg will know exactly who to suspect if I get poisoned.” 

 

Irene responded with a big smile and tilted her head.

 

“You must be cautious, we don’t know what type of people frequent that market. Keep your eyes open and remember everything” Sherlock told LeStrade

 

“Poisonous ones, I would think,” Irene said. 

 

“If I’m not back by morning, send in the troops,” LeStrade said. 

 

Sherlock nodded and LeStrade left.

 

“Do you think the chevalier knows this woman because... “ John Thought his words twice “he has murdered someone this way?”

 

“All men are capable of murder, John. But I think the chevalier is more innocent than he pretends. He is all show and frivolity. He lives in the moment.  I would think that a knife or sword or perhaps a pistol would be more his style.” 

 

“He really plays a bipolar role. Every person I hear speak of him has a different opinion” Irene added.

 

"You think I should send woman for this task?” Sherlock asked. “There is no one who would observe as much as LeStrade.”  

 

“I would.”

 

“You are not going. Besides I need you to ingratiate yourself with Marchal.  You share a common interest. Go interrogate him. Without him knowing it.” 

 

“A common interest?” she asked. She only knew who Marchal was because of the little gossip she had heard around, but has never seen him really.

 

“Yes, he has some very nice chains hanging from the ceiling in one of the rooms in the basement and all sorts of nasty tools. Of course, his use for them is a little more painful than yours, but with much the same results.”  

 

“Sounds interesting.” She got up “You suspect he would let me ask him? Instead of the other way round? Sometimes men don’t like changing roles”

 

“You know how to be discrete, persistent, bide your time.  He won’t talk at first. But talk about your common interest.  He will be intrigued. Over time, he will see you as a friend. We aren’t in a hurry with this so don’t push too hard too fast,” Sherlock told her. “Now, John and I are going to one of the salons to make a scene.”

 

She frowned and that last sentence and saw both of them walk out the room. Wondering what the hell was he planning.

 

Sherlock and John had been in the salon for about twenty minutes when Anderson arrived with a letter for John.  He went direct to him. “John…”

 

Sherlock immediately flew into a rage. “How dare you!? You will address Lord Watson by his proper title.”

 

Anderson looked surprised “So… Sorry your highness” and he bowed still holding the letter to him, looking around at all the people looking at them.

 

John took the letter and said nothing. 

 

“Leave, go about your duties,” Sherlock told him. 

 

John opened the letter, but there was nothing written on the paper. He looked at Sherlock to find and answer. People started to go back to their matters.

 

“I heard that Sherrinford had no nobles,” one of the ladies commented. 

 

“I am Scottish,” John replied. 

 

“And do you serve Sherrinford as an ambassador or something similar?” a man entered the conversation, curious about why someone would go and live there.

 

“I went to Sherrinford to escape the English.” John realised what Sherlock had done because suddenly John was a lot more popular in the salon and word of him being a lord was spreading quickly. 

 

Other people started coming closer to hear the conversation. “There have been words of England breaking a treaty with your country” another man started “ Has the relationship always been as bad?”

 

“The question is when has England ever kept a treaty,” John replied. 

 

People around them laughed taking it as a joke. “And how do you find Versailles, i bet the weather is much better here” a woman continued, walking closer to John, waiving her fan. 

 

“It is nice to be out of the wind,” John flirted, as Sherlock knew he would. His French was not so bad that he couldn’t flirt. “Especially when one is wearing a kilt.”  

 

Another young girl walked to him “uuh, are those the skirt men wear? I’ve seen them in paintings before” she said, the woman who got there looked a bit disturbed.

 

“You didn’t see us dancing at the party?” John asked, careful to mispronounce the words. 

 

“I’m not allowed at night time parties… yet” the girl said, with a smile, she looked older than her age.

 

“It certainly answered the question of what the Scottish wear under their kilt,” another lady laughed. 

 

“It looks like you could enjoy a bit of the french spring sunshine your highness” a woman now said to Sherlock 

 

“I am always this pale,” Sherlock replied. Having had the desired effect of drawing attention to John, Sherlock retired to bed with a book and a cup of tea which Anderson reluctantly brought.  Sherlock refused to explain to the man why he had snapped at him. 

  
  


Sherlock enjoyed riding, he would ride daily if the weather permitted but he wasn’t so sure about hunting. Of course, he knew that the meat on his table had been killed but there was a big gap between eating meat and killing something. 

 

John helped him choose a suitable outfit to wear so as not to outdo the French Princes but still not be underdressed. Their horses were ready and they followed the King and Prince Philippe out.  Sherlock longed to just ride freely but no one rode faster than the king or dared to outdo him in anyway. 

 

They entered the woods with a bunch of guards following behind, the king was concentrating, looking around, listening to the noises; while Philippe looked not amused at all, trying to straighten his cloak.

 

“I think we would be able to hunt a deer, Sire” one of the men said to the king “there’s have been groups of them around lately”

“How does one kill a deer?” Sherlock asked. 

 

“You shoot it,” John replied. 

 

And that is what happened. Sherlock dropped down off his horse and approached the dying animal. He was looking paler than he normally was. Suddenly he turned away and vomited. John immediately attended to him. 

 

The king looked at him “What is his problem? Is he sick?” he wondered “You should have not come if you were sick today.”

 

Philippe reached them, still on his horse “I don’t think he is…” he answered with a smile on his face.

 

“He’s never seen anything die before. We don’t have hunting on Sherrinford, and his mother would never permit him to witness the death of anything,” John said. 

 

“That’s a strange way of educate a man to this world” Philippe said.

 

Sherlock recovered quickly.  Now that the animal was dead, it was just an object to him. “What happens to it now?” he asked. 

 

“You eat it” the king answered, getting back on his horse.”They’ll cook it for dinner tonight”

 

“I’d like to dissect it. I have never seen the insides of a deer before,” Sherlock said. 

 

“You never seen a deer before,” John reminded him. 

 

“You’d like to what?” Philippe asked in disbelief. 

 

“I’d like to examine the animals organs,” Sherlock explained. 

 

“Well you do have curious hobbies, sir” Philippe answered, and turned around with his horse and started riding back to the palace, he had enough of outdoors for that day. 

 

“They’ll take the deer to the kitchens, if you really want to… do that, you can find it there” Louis told Sherlock.

 

“Thank you, Sire.”  

 

“Enough excitement for one day?” John asked Sherlock. 

 

“If we may be excused, Sire,” Sherlock asked Louis. 

 

“You may.”  

 

Sherlock followed the carcass to the kitchen’s butchery and watched as the butcher did his work. 

 

At dinner Louis asked how Sherlock enjoyed his day.

 

“It was a most enjoyable and informative day, Your Majesty. And the result,” he said holding up a piece of meat on his fork, “is quite delicious. I had no idea of the amount of work that it takes to prepare food for so many.” 

 

“There's a process for everything sir” Philippe said, holding his hand up to ask for a glass of wine. A servant came close to him with one and Philippe took it directly from his hand. Just when he held it up to his mouth the servant coughed and a millions dots of blood spilled on the table, Philippes eyes opened in surprise and he jumped off his chair. Just a minute after the servant was dead on the floor covered in blood.

 

“Is he the taster!?” the king screamed in panic.

 

Almost everyone at the table had now backed away from it as if the poison could leap up from the food, including Sherlock who bumped his elbow on the chair back as he jumped back from the blood.

 

“No sire” Bontemps said to him, with a calm voice “The taster is here. Alive.” he walked closer to the body on the floor. “I’m afraid he is one of Monsieur’s household servants”

 

“Is someone following me or what?!” Philippe said to that.   

 

“Clear the room, take all this food away.  Air the room. There might be miasma in the air,” Louis ordered. Servants did so. “Well, Doctor Watson” he said, with a angry tone, someone had done it again, killing under his own eyes. “Can you say something about this?”

 

“It is definitely poison, Sire.  But there is no way to tell how long ago he was poisoned. It could have been moments ago or days,” John replied. “Would advise you to leave, Sire.” John signalled for LeStrade’s men to remove Sherlock. 

  
  


***

 

Sherlock woke John in the early hours of the morning.  He was obviously in pain and his elbow was badly swollen, and bruised.  “It’s happening again.” 

 

John took a bit to open his eyes and get use to the morning light in the room. When he could see he held Sherlock’s arm gently to examine it. 

“It looks bad, worse than other times, did you hit it with something?”

 

“It was just a slight bump, last night at dinner. If you bleed it, will it stop bleeding, this time?” Sherlock asked, clearly frightened. 

 

“I’m not sure really. It took more time to heal when I did, but it hurt less…” he continued examination it, wondering what was causing the same problem over again. He got up from bed and walked to a servant, asking for small towels, freshwater and his case.

 

“My mother’s brother died of it,” Sherlock told him.  “They couldn’t stop the bleeding.” 

 

“I know, I’m not going to bleed you.” He soaked the towels in the water and gently wrapped Sherlock’s arm with them. “This should lower the swelling and maybe take some pain off”

 

John could see that Sherlock was in a great deal of pain.  He was paler than usual and sweating, but there was no sign of fever. “I need to examine the rest of you, Sherlock. I have to make sure that there isn’t any swelling anywhere else.”

 

Sherlock gave a quick laugh. “You did that pretty thoroughly last night.”  

 

John ignored the joke but he blushed, he made Sherlock lie on the bed and started by examining his feet, looking for other injuries. When he finished he got Sherlock to sip a potion from a small vial. “You look like you get in a fight every night. Anderson, get me some snow,” John ordered. 

 

“Snow?”

 

“Yes, get a bucket of snow, now.”  

 

Anderson went out of the room “What do you want snow for?” Sherlock asked.

 

“Hot compresses haven’t worked in the past.  Let’s try to ease the swelling with cold compresses,” John replied. 

 

“You might want to put some clothes on before anyone comes looking for us,” Sherlock told him.  

 

John tipped the fruit from the bowl and used it to put some snow into, then lowered Sherlock’s wrapped elbow into the snow.  Sherlock screamed attracting the guards and Philippe who was passing on his way to get some food. 

 

“Oh I thought someone else had been poisoned” he said, popping his head in the door. 

 

“No, your highness. Prince Sherlock has injured his elbow and I am trying to reduce the swelling,” John replied. 

 

“That doesn’t look vey medical…” he said, one he had walked closer and saw the snow in the bowl.

 

“Something I learnt from my grandmother,” John told him.  “Any other doctor would bleed the swelling, but that is likely to kill him.”  

 

“I’ve seen the likes of this on the battlefield.  The doctors do bleed it and the soldiers recover.”

 

“Last time they bled me it didn’t stop for weeks” Sherlock said “It’s maybe a good way to do it for other people… but I would not like to stain the floors of Versailles with blood for weeks.”

 

“Did they not stitch the cut?” Philippe asked.  “My brother had a cut on his forehead. The doctor did not stitch it and the wound opened again so he sent for a woman to stitch it shut.”  

 

“We did… at the end” John replied, moving Sherlocks arm’s position “but it still took longer than usual to close.”

 

“It has always been so with most of the males of my family. No doctor knows why. It does not affect the women. That is why the women rule,” Sherlock told him. 

 

“My brother says his doctor does wonders, maybe she can give you her opinion” Philippe suggested. “Did you get hurt when hunting?”

 

“A woman doctor?” John asked. 

 

“It was last night at dinner. I bumped it when I got up from the table,” Sherlock told him. 

 

“And it ended up like this?” he answered in surprise, looking at his arm. “Yes it’s a woman, but she walks around dressed as a man really… Her father was a doctor.”

 

“Anderson, help John get dressed properly.  We are having a visit from a woman doctor,” Sherlock told him. 

 

“Then I shall send for her,” Philippe said. 

 

The female doctor, Claudine, arrived in half an hour. John drew her aside and explained the situation. “We are hoping that you might know what to do.”

 

“When John first came to Sherrinford, I was lying in bed, had been for weeks.  Everyone but my parents had given up. They thought it was just a matter of time before I died. John wrapped a rope around my ankle and strung it from the ceiling.  I was like that for 5 days, lying there with my foot in the air. When he let it down it was another 2 days before I had the full feeling back in my foot. But it healed and I recovered,” Sherlock told her. “I knew him from my days in London. My mother wrote to my brother, and he found John.”

 

“Rotting in an English prison.  I had been treating Scottish rebels on the border when the English raided our camp.  Everyone else was executed but because I was not fighting and only treating the injured, and perhaps because I then treated the English injured, they didn’t execute me,” John continued, distracting Sherlock from Claudine’s examination. 

  
  


Claudine listened to the story at the same time that she was looking at Sherlock’s arm. “Do you get bruises very often, your highness?” she asked

 

“Every day.” Sherlock hid himself with the sheet but showed her his legs. “This is from the hunt, yesterday.”  

 

“Your French has improved very quickly, doctor,” Philippe said to John.

 

“I’ve had reason to practice and Sherlock corrects my pronunciation,” John said quickly. 

 

“It looks like a problem with blood stream…” she reached for a needle in John’s case nearby. “May I?” she asked for permission. “It won't be much, I just want to see how long it takes for a small pinch to recover.”

 

“Avoid the arteries,” John said. 

 

Sherlock nodded. She made a small prick on the point of one of his fingers and saw the blood come out, afterwards she left the hand on the bed and went to light a candle to tell the time. “By the story you told me, it sounds like a problem with the blood, maybe too much amount…” She didn’t really know.

 

“He is always pale and prone to fainting when he exerts himself.  I thought too little blood.” 

 

She tilted her face, thinking. “Maybe. I would like to do more test after this one”

 

“John,” Sherlock said holding out his finger which was still bleeding. 

 

“We’ll wait to see if it stops,” John told him.  “This little bit of blood will not kill you.” 

 

“Are you afraid of blood, Sherlock?” Philippe said, trying to make a joke.

 

“Not if it is someone else’s,” Sherlock tried to smile. 

 

Claudine smiled and walked away “I do have other matters now, but let me know when it stops bleeding, check the time” she said and bow before walking away through one of the secret corridors.

 

“Bring breakfast” John told a servant. “We don’t know how long it will bleed and you’ll need energy” He said now turning to Sherlock.

 

“Thank you, your highness, for staying to cheer me up,” Sherlock said. 

 

Philippe walked around the bed and sat down on the end facing Sherlock. “Usually if I get to talk to Princes at all it is to negotiate trade or treaties when my brother isn’t hiding me or alternately showing me off as his loyal brother. It’s a welcome change to talk to someone who isn’t obliged to be friendly.”

 

Sherlock smiled and looked back at his hand that was starting to feel numb now because of holding it up, he thought. “With all these people at the palace, you must have a lot of friends around all the time”

 

“Friends? Most of them just seek power when they start speaking with someone. There's people around here that they only seek a place near the king, and there’s not many ways of getting there.”

 

“I noticed the ladies trying to get Sherlock’s attention,” John said with an air of jealousy. 

 

“A lot of the women’s around here, especially the young ones, just come here trying to get to be the king’s mistress. And if there’s the opportunity to catch a prince who looks like the heir of a country, they will try…” he sigh 

 

Sherlock gave a short laugh.  “They have no hope.” 

 

“They’ll keep going” he laughed to “They still try on me; as if i invited men to my room to discuss war matters… All that they can see is your power, and they are used to winning anyone with their charms”

 

“If they only knew,” John muttered. “Irene did not win him with charm.”

 

“I might have been her skill in not drawing blood,” Sherlock replied. 

 

Philippe looked curiously at Sherlock.

 

“Everyone has treated him like fragile crystal all his life. Then along comes Irene,” John said as he added more snow to the bowl and changed the cloth wrapping his elbow. Sherlock winced at the pain of the movement.  

 

“She doesn’t treat you like crystal?” Philippe was getting the idea but didn’t want to sound insolent. “I’m not the best at treating women… I spend most of my marriage in war with my wife…”

 

“No she doesn’t treat me like crystal,” Sherlock replied. “Nor does John.” 

 

“And how do you deal with the wounds then? If it hurts like that” he pointed at his arm with a move of his head “ when you bump into a table…” he asked with a mischievous smile.

 

“Chair,” Sherlock corrected. 

 

“I treated him the first time, and made it very clear that if she put him into that condition again, there was a convenient cliff she might fall off,” John said. 

 

“We found a compromise. I have John, she has Molly. The Grandmothers tell her when she needs to… and we spend enough time together to get her pregnant,” Sherlock told him.  

  
  


“That sounds intelligent, I never went to such an effort…” he looked down at his hands for a second “Henriette knew how to get children by herself.”

 

“You mean you don’t know if your children are really yours?” John asked.

 

“Well Marie Louise definitely is,” a new voice answered that question, the chevalier was also passing by and heard the voices and came in. “I’ve just seen her screaming at her governess… same temperament as her father.”

 

“Of course, she was the first,” Philippe said as if that made a difference. 

 

The chevalier giggled and then looked at the scene. The servants entered bringin the food. “What is this gathering? Do you now meet for breakfast?” he asked with a smile.

 

“Come join me in distracting Prince Sherlock from his pain,” Philippe said. 

 

“But that reminds me. Where is Anderson and the food?” John muttered. 

 

“Food’s here” said Sherlock looking at the woman putting plates on the table in the room “Anderson is not…”

 

“Probably outside with the others waiting for us for their lesson,” the Chevalier reminded them. 

 

“Well, then be a good chap and go tell them that there is no lesson today,” John said in English. 

 

“John! The chevalier is a Prince.  Address him appropriately. This isn’t Sherrinford,” Sherlock reminded him. 

 

“He’s still a chap unless he is hiding boobs under his frills,” John muttered. 

 

The chevalier had told a servant to do so while Sherlock and John discussed the matter and the looked back at them.

 

“What is chap?” Philippe asked. 

 

“It’s a type of britches.  It’s common talk for a man,” Sherlock replied in French. 

 

“The Chevalier is definitely a chap,” Philippe said. 

 

The chevalier rose his eyebrows and decided to not respond, walking to the table picking a strawberry. “And what type of party is this? We normally don’t gather men around a bed until night time” he said, directing that last sentence to Philippe.

 

John brought a plate of food to Sherlock and helped prop him up with pillows.  

 

“The sort of party where everyone sits around and watches me suffer. I can’t go to breakfast so breakfast has come to me,” Sherlock told him.  

 

The chevalier brought a chair near and seated, while eating his strawberry. “Found the place to get those medical potions things?” he asked, not looking directly to him. Philippe turned to the chevalier wondering what was he talking about.

 

“My people are checking it out, first.  Don’t want the doctor to have inferior products,” Sherlock told him. 

 

“Since when do you know anything about medicine?” Philippe asked the chevalier in disbelief.

 

“A man has to have his ways…” he answered. 

 

John lifted Sherlock’s elbow from the snow.  “I think the swelling is going down.”

 

“I think my arm is freezing off,” Sherlock replied. 

 

“Your finger is still bleeding,” John pointed out.

 

“Shouldn’t you put something over it? Or something” the chevalier asked, he had missed something.

 

“It’s a test, to see how long it takes to stop. The king’s doctor did it” Philippe answered him.

 

“Stop clenching your hand. It makes the blood flow and your elbow will swell up again,” John told Sherlock. 

 

“It hurts.”

 

“If you eat, I will give you a little more morphine,” John promised. 

 

“I’m eating” the chevalier said, holding the second strawbery up; Philippe gave him a killer look. 

 

“One more remark like that and I will be giving your morphine to Sherlock,” John warned him.

 

“John, etiquette,” Sherlock reminded him. 

 

“I am a doctor.  A doctor’s prescriptions outweigh even a king’s word.”

 

“Is that why you ended up in the english prison?” Philippe teased. 

 

“It’s fine, I like it when they are rebellious” the chevalier added, taking his vial out, holding it up like a toss and taking a sip. Philippe rolled his eyes and wonder if he was able to notice the change in taste.

 

When Claudine came back she saw the Sherlock’s finger was still bleeding, not much but still the droplets came as if she had just pricked his finger. She took a candle from the wall and dropped wax on the wound after wiping it clean. 

  
  


Later on that day Fabien Marchal called for John and Sherlock to meet at the dungeons, but only the doctor appeared.

 

“Is his highness not interested in the matter anymore” Fabien asked when he saw John walking down the stairs alone.

 

“He is not feeling his best this morning” John answered “He’s enjoying royal company in bed for today”

 

Fabien composed a side smile and started walking down the corridor, making a sign to John to follow. They passed along some cells and empty rooms until they got to a wooden door. Inside there was a couple big wooden tables and bright light came in from what looked like ceiling windows. Claudine, the women doctor, was in the room examining a male body at one of the tables.

 

“Is this Monsieurs servant who died last night?” John guessed.

 

“Yes, it is.” Fabien answered, biting.

 

“Did he not have family? Someone who wants to bury his body?”

 

“We only know that he came from very far away and he was lucky to be chosen by the prince as one of his entourage”

 

John looked at the naked body on the table, open from the throat to his belly; he was young, light brown ringlets framing his face.

 

“Did you found out something about the poison?” John asked Claudine know.

 

“Yes.” She cleaned her hands and walked to the men. “Something surprisingly different from other poisons I’ve seen. It seems that it did not enter through the mouth and into the stomach. It entered through the respiratory tract, directly to his lungs, destroying them and not letting air enter the body. It quite quickly poisons. I guess, it could not have been long since he inhaled it until he died…”

 

“That narrows the poisoner down to the people who were at dinner” Fabien said.

 

“Or someone left the poison somewhere where it could be inhabited by the royal family…” John said, still looking at the dead body.

 

John looked closer at the body. “The bleeding in the lungs destroys the evidence of the poison and what causes the poisoned person to spit blood everywhere.”

 

“There is no way that we can prevent people from breathing without killing them,” Fabien muttered. 

 

“Which is what we are trying to prevent,” John added. “LeStrade has not returned from Paris.  Prince Sherlock is concerned for his safety. Can you send someone who can discreetly inquire about him?  I have the directions he was to follow. He was looking into a possible source of the poison.” 

 

“Hmm. Paris? Where in Paris? I guess I can go to find him if you know where he should be.”

 

John gave Fabien the direction that Sherlock had given LeStrade.  

 

“How did you find out of this place?” Fabien asked, suspicious. “Normally only people from Paris and who need special things know it.”

 

“Sherrinford has no army.  What we do have is information and we know how to use it,” John replied. 

 

Fabien turned around, not answering directly, walking to the door. “I’ll find him, and whatever he was looking for.” And he left.

 

“Need help with that?” John asked Claudine, indicating the body.

 

Claudine looked up from the body and smiled at John. “Now we know the reason for the death, and noticing the rest of the organs are not damaged from the poison. It’s a good moment to examine the rest of the organs. I like drawing them and learning their parts… try to understand how they work.” She looked back up at him and wondered if she was speaking too much.

 

“That is a good way to learn.  Much of what I know came from treating men on the battlefield. I learnt which organs a man can live without and how much damage each organ can take before a man dies from the damage. Many organs are the same in most animals that I have encountered,” John replied. 

 

“We should get our notes together, Your highness” Claudine looked down “It sounds like we can learn much from them together.”

 

“I’m not a Prince.  I’m a Lord. You don’t have to call me highness,” John told her. “All my notes are up here.” He tapped his head. “Though there is some debate whether or not are thinking originates in our heads. It has always seemed to me that I think inside my head.”

 

“Oh sorry, I’m not aware of your titles… and I’m not the best at addressing” she smiled, looking back down at the body. “It must be difficult to keep all that information only in your head, do you not forget anything?”

 

“The key to remembering is to use the information often,” John replied. “Practice your craft as often as you can. Walk in a herb garden and remind yourself what each herb is for. When you see a person with an old injury, a scar, think of what might have caused it, how it was treated, how you would have treated it. A cook does not need to know how to read to make many dishes.”  

 

Claudine smiled and started working on dissect the body “I’ll be happy to have a hand from this cook then.”

 

John was quite happy to give her a hand.  He watched her technique and showed her his own. “Always use pegs to clamp off the stomach before you cut. That way you can examine the stomach content later without  getting it all over the abdomen.” 

 

John got back to their room in time to hear Sherlock say, “Yes, I will die from this. But when you go to war, do you stay back in safety at the guarded tents or do you lead your troops into battle?  You see, I could lie in bed surrounded by pillows, frightened to do anything for the rest of my life, or I can live.”

 

“I can see the point. Life would not have sense if you don’t put it in danger sometimes.” Philippe answered, still sitting in his place on the bed.

 

“I remember the day you were born. My French tutor, who was English, told me your were a spare like me.  I didn’t like him,” Sherlock told them. “I put worms in his porridge the next morning.” 

 

Philippe laughed at the story and smiled to the same feeling “I don’t get why people tend to classify people… I am surprised I’ve never heard of you really, I would have invite you to come much early” 

 

“If we have a girl this time, my brother will feel like I have put worms in his porridge.”

 

“It must be sad to be a threat to your own brother, brothers should help each other” he thought about his uncle, now past away, and the very bad relationship he had with his own dad.

 

“Sherlock and Mycroft love each other. They just won’t ever admit it. Mycroft is overprotective. He’d have Sherlock in bed surrounded by pillows,” John said as he made himself known to the group. 

 

“I wondered how long you were going to lurk in the doorway,” Sherlock said. 

 

“Waiting for something interesting to happen” the chevalier was still sitting on a chair next to the table, eating some of sherlock’s breakfast now and then, not amused but still there as he had nothing else to do.

 

“What did Fabien want from you?” Philippe asked.

 

“He’s been up to his elbows in that poor servants insides,” Sherlock answered. “What did the autopsy tell you?”

 

“The poison was inhaled.”

 

The chevalier who was about to sniff a pinch of snuff from his snuff box, dropped it in fright.  

 

“Is that even possible?” Monsieur wondered and looked at the chevalier, leaving the box on the table.

 

He breathed what I am assuming was a fine powder directly into his lungs. “He drowned to death in his own blood. But he didn’t suffer long. 30 or 40 seconds.”

 

“But did he breath it because he wanted or… he just did from nowhere?” the chevalier asked, getting up from the chair, trying to remember how many people he had offered something or had offered to him. “Do you think it was an accident? Or someone is trying to kill all the Orlean’s household?”

 

“Fabien doesn’t think there was any reason to think that someone wanted to kill the lad. But that leaves the question of who it was intended for,” John replied. “Until we can get hold of some of the poison, we can only guess at how long it took to take effect.”

 

“Is there a reason someone would wish you dead?” Sherlock asked Philippe.  “Who is next in line for the throne after you? Someone might be working their way up in the royal household. You, the Dauphin, the King.” 

 

Philippe paused for a second to think about it “As the queen has no more sons… I guess maybe one of the king’s mistress son. If they legitimate them. If the king dies the queen will end up being regent, that almost happened once” and he looked at the chevalier, remembering the problems that brought.

 

“If the Queen would be regent then there would be no reason to poison you.  Would the las have served the king’s wine as well as you?” John asked. 

 

“No, my brother has his own tasters and servants,” Philippe replied. 

 

“Then someone is trying to kill you,” the chevalier said in shock. 

 

“Or you,” Philippe added. 

 

That shocked him even more and latter he smiled in disbelieve “Why would someone want to kill ME?”

 

“We’ll there is just a couple ways to get good favor from the royal family” Sherlock answered him “It’s common for the king to change mistress now and then… but not as much for his brother” 

 

“No one could replace him,” Philippe said. 

 

“Unless someone thought that a certain newly arrived Prince would get the blame,” John pointed out. 

 

The french looked at sherlock in bed, wondering if that could be possible; then Philippe walked to the table and took the chevalier’s box “This is ending, immediately” and then he talked back at John, offering him the box “How can you know who is doing it?”

 

"A process of elimination,” Sherlock told him.  “If I was going to poison the chevalier, I would poison John first and then appeal to your good nature for comforting in having lost my heart. Then I would cast suspicion on someone who disapproves of such relationships and he or she would be blamed for the chevalier’s death. But I think they are targeting you, your highness,” Sherlock explained. 

 

“Well that’s twisted” The chevalier muttered, trying not to be heard.

 

Philippe was getting mad by seconds, the thought of someone wanting to kill his loves ones was making him so angry. “We’ll why not get up and go and discover who?!” he almost screamed and walked to the door. “If you’re so good at these things” and he stormed out the room.

 

“I assure you, Sherlock is working on it. But if he thinks he is going to get out of bed today, he is quite mistaken. His elbow need more treatment.” John took the bucket to fetch more snow.

 

“Don’t worry, that’s very Philippe like, he’ll be back to normal at dinner time” the chevalier said.

 

“They are very alike,” John said. 

 

“Who?” he walked closer to John “Can I have that back?” he wondered, talking about the box Philippe had gave him.

 

“Sherlock and Philippe.  And no, I’m going to test it for poison.” 

 

“Yeah” he walked back again “Royal princes tend to have similar personalities. Having a king to be as big brother has to be difficult, double as difficult than just an older brother”

 

“How do you get along with your older brother?” John asked. 

 

The chevalier grinned. “He is fine until he decides that everything I do in life is wrong. He is good friends with the king so I end up seeing him more often than what I like”

 

“It isn’t just princes.  I have an older sister…”

 

“Change the subject,” Sherlock moaned. “And aren’t you supposed to be getting more snow for my elbow?”

 

“Not your servant,” John replied. 

 

“Whose money do you spend?” Sherlock quipped. 

 

“Keep talking like that and I will find a very large needle and somewhere painful to put it,” John said with a grin. 

 

“He is certainly learning the french ways” the chevalier smiled “I think i would leave you for this morning, and try to go and  cheer up the royal prince, before he decides I can’t use his money either”

 

“Thank you, your highness, for watching over him while I was busy,” John said. 

 

“My pleasure” he bowed an inch and walked back to the exit.

 

Philippe walked down the stairs to the stables while putting on his gloves. He had plan himself a bit of fresh air while riding, but the guards at the door stopped him from leaving.

 

“What’s the problem?”

 

“The king has commanded, no one can leave the palace”

 

“Why?”

 

“The Dauphin is sick”

 

Philippe frowned, that sounded like not a good enough reason to close the palace. So he almost run back upstairs to his brother’s rooms.

 

Louis was pacing around the room he used to address his ministers. The guards at the door almost didn’t let him in but he ducked between them and entered. After all what were they going to do to the king’s only brother.

 

“What happened?” Philippe asked.

 

“It’s just a cold” Louis tryed to sound calm.

 

“Liar. You wouldn’t shut the palace for a cold. You’re suspecting something, and so do I.”

 

“What do you suspect?” Louis asked. 

 

“Someone is trying to get to us. To pull the line down.” he said, remembering Sherlock’s words. “Are you sure its not poison? Even a small amount that doesn't look really bad… We should call the doctor”

 

“Claudine is with him.” The king answered.

 

“The other doctor!” Philippe said, almost angry that his brother was not getting his point.

 

“A strange prince arrives from a country no one has heard of to enforce conditions of a treaty that I didn’t know about and suddenly the Dauphin is sick and people are dropping dead.  Why should I let anyone of his people anywhere near Louis?” Louis rounded on his brother in anger. 

 

Philippe doubt and walked around the room in nervousness. Who was right, his brother or the foreigners. Something told him he had to distrust the new prince, but his other side told him he normally had better intuition than his brother.

 

“We should let him see the dauphin”

 

“We? It’s my son, not yours”

 

“Well, just let him!” he wanted to just hold him and strangle him “They’ve been studying it. The poisons”

 

It was then that the Marquis de Louvois burst into the room carrying a stack of papers.  “I have it, Sire. According to these records, Queen Margarette of Sherrin does have a claim to both the French and English throne through Henry V of England.”  He laid the papers out on the table. 

 

Louis look back at Philippe, who now looked surprised and hurt. “Studying the poisons? Or filling every vial in the palace with them?” the king asked his brother, who didn’t know what to say.

 

“They arrived with a stock of medicines, herbs and potions,” Philippe added. “They lied about the extent of their people speaking French. That doctor understands every word of French and he speaks it well enough when he wants to.”  Philippe was slowly convincing himself. “When Marie Louise tripped and hurt her hands...that doctor was there.”

 

“And the prince was charming and handsome enough to gain the favor of the Kings only brother, who casually has the same taste that he has…” Louis continued his words.

 

“But he was the one who convinced me that the poison was for me and that someone is trying to poison all our family,” Philippe said. “Why would he do that?”

 

“Well, maybe he was not just convincing you, but telling you the truth” 

 

“So that we wouldn’t suspect them?” Philippe asked. 

 

Louis nodded and started walking back and forth himself, thinking. 

 

Claudine entered the room. 

 

“Well?” Louis demanded.

 

“It’s hard to tell, Sire. Children suffer from so many illnesses that we know nothing about. I’ve given him a potion to reduce the fever.”  

 

“You should arrest them” Philippe now sounded convinced.

 

“We won’t” The king answered, now looking at the papers on the table “But we will look closely. You specially” he said, pointing at his brother.

 

“They already admitted they have no army. What is stopping us from arresting them and doing away with the lot of them?” Philippe asked. 

 

“I’m curious” he said, and Philippe looked at him like he wanted to kill him.

 

“You’re going to put your life in danger because you’re curious? I am taking my children and going home.  I won’t let them be killed because you are curious,” Philippe yelled at him. 

 

“To be protected by what army?” Louis asked. “They are safer here.”

 

“No one here is safe!”  

 

“Keep your enemies close, Brother; that’s what mother used to tell me” Louis said, getting closer to him “So you’re staying here”

 

“Oh, am I your enemy now?” Philippe answered.

 

“No. But you can keep my enemy close to me” Louis smiled.

 

“Close to you? I’m the one who just had breakfast in bed with him.”

 

“In bed?”

 

“Not like that, brother.  He is sick.”

 

“Sick?” Claudine interrupted. 

 

“His elbow is swollen. He has the Royal Disease. You were there.  You saw it.”

 

“Why was I called in when he already has a doctor? There are a lot of ways to induce such a swelling.”   

 

“So… his doctor getting close to my doctor. Awesome.” Louis said, taking his hand to hin face and rubbing his eyes. “Claudine be sure to test all your medicine and herbs for poison.”

 

“But we both saw that Sherlock’s blood flowed from his finger for much longer than normal,” Philippe said. 

 

“Feverfew.  You have it here in the gardens. It would make his blood run freely like that,” Claudine told him. “It also induces stiff joints. An irritant injected under the skin might cause the swelling.”

 

Philippe looked amazed, hi thoughts run far too quickly in his head he had to sit down. “Why would someone do that to themselves?”

 

“To make the prince of France stay for breakfast in bed, maybe?” Louis answered him. “Who knows what you’ve been talking about…”

 

“Poisons and who was the target when that servant died last night. We also discussed why I might be the target. That if you and the Dauphin both died then I would have to die as well to clear the way to the throne.  And how the Queen might me suspect because she would become Regent if you died. But He did most of the talking.” 

 

“You told him about the idea of the Queen being regent? You’re great at putting people's lives in danger!” Louis looked at Louvois “Make sure the Queen is safe and surrounded only by people of confidence”

 

“Brother, get out of the room, now,” Philippe said suddenly. 

 

“What?  Why?”

 

“Because I am suddenly feeling ill.”  He turned to Louvois. “Protect your king.”

 

Claudine went to Philippe’s side. “What exactly are you feeling?”

 

“Nausea, faintness, a trembling in my hands and feet.”  

 

“You really should leave, sire” Claudine said, turning to the king. Who obeyed, followed by Louvois. Then she turned back to Philippe. “Lie back.”

 

“Is it poison?” Philippe asked, trying to untie his neckerchief finding hard to breath. 

 

“I don’t think so, your highness. Just anxiety, for now. You should relax.”

 

“Relax? How can I relax. My brother...my children...OH God! The chevalier…” Philippe suddenly threw up.  

 

Louvois entered Sherlock’s room with guards.  “The king is concerned about the illness in the palace. He orders that your food must be removed and tested for poisons. Please stay in your room until further notice.”

 

Sherlock and John said nothing until they had left, “So it begins.” 

 

“At least we had the prince company in bed for a morning,” Sherlock said, and started to get himself up from the bed.

 

“And now they suspect us,” John said. 

 

“And we must convince them otherwise.”

 

“They are not going to come close to us now…”

 

“Louis is well know for changing his mind. One day he sees villains, the next friends. Once we are cleared of suspicion it will take him twice as long to suspect us again.”  

 

“Any ideas for our first move after this? Because I find myself a bit lost”

 

“Well, how about you remove the seed in my elbow before they send that doctor in here to inspect it more closely,” Sherlock told him.  “Besides, it hurts like hell.” 

 

“Would it not be more suspicious that when people in the palace are getting sick you suddenly recover?”

 

“Your treatment was effective and it will take a few days for all the swelling to go down.”  

 

John sighed and obeyed, working on Sherlock’s elbow. “Who do you think  started to suspect?” He wondered, which of the brothers.

 

“We can’t be sure that they do suspect us. But if I was either one of them I would.  That is the whole point of this exercise. I must seem too weak and too dependant.”

 

“We’ll keep on going then, If someone wants to come close…” John said.

  
  
  


“I’ve been called, my king” The chevalier said, entering the king's room, and surprised to find Phillippe in bed, with Claudine next to him.

 

“You’ve been with them?” Philippe asked, still nervous, trying to hold himself up on the bed.

 

“With whom?”

 

“The foreign prince.”

 

“I left just after you. What is going on here? Are you ill?” He held his handkerchief up to cover his mouth and nose. 

 

“He’s not; just a bunch of surprises all together” Claudine told the chevalier, holding a glass of water up to Philippe, who tried to hold it with his trembling hands. The chevalier frowned and walked closer to the bed.

 

“What’s the problem then?”

 

“The Dauphin is ill and Louis suspects Prince Sherlock is trying to wipe out our family. His people might be doing the poisonings and he might not be ill at all.”

 

“The Dauphin?” the chevalier asked trying to keep up but feeling a bit foggy.

 

“No, Sherlock.”

 

“There are ways to fake illness,” Claudine added. “The doctor would know this.”  

 

“They are in line to the thrones of England and France. They have a reason to try…” Philippe took a deep breath as he was feeling dizzy again.

 

“But they are trying to discover the poisoner themselves, that’s useless if they are the poisoners” the chevalier said, starting to think he should also sit down. 

 

“Are they?” Philippe asked. “Or trying to take suspicion off themselves.”  

 

“Does the King know this?” He asked, taking a seat, and looking for his vial in his pocket, he was starting to get too nervous. Claudine snatched it out of his hands. 

 

“Do you really want to take the risk?” she asked. 

 

“Yes, my brother knows.”

 

“But he doesn’t know that you have taken over his bedchamber,” Bontemps said as he entered. 

 

“The Monsieur was feeling faint. This was closer than his room,” Claudine explained. 

 

The chevalier went to sit on the bed but was stopped by Bontemps.  “Don’t! The king might tolerate his brother but he would never tolerate you sitting on his bed.”

 

“Oh gosh, Bontemps don’t be too over the top with protocol, there’s worse things to take care of now.” The chevalier sat after his words. “Did you check the girls are safe?” He asked him.

 

“They are will their governess and well guarded,” Philippe said. “As always. Do you really think I would leave them unguarded after the accident with Marie Louise?” 

 

“Well, I think that you should have a guard with you like the king,” the chevalier said. 

 

“That would alarm the court,” Bontemps said. 

 

“As if they aren’t already alarmed with all these poisonings,” the chevalier replied. 

 

“Don’t be over protective. Since when you’re preoccupied about the girls?” Philippe said to him “And I can take care of myself, i don’t need guards. It’s you who should stop putting yourself in danger”

 

“I’m not in direct line to the throne.”

 

“However, your death would make his highness vulnerable,” Bontemps added. 

 

“The king said we should keep everything as it is, not letting them know we suspect” Philippe said “As we don’t know for sure…”

 

“Sherlock is intelligent.  He already knows he is suspected,” the chevalier replied. “But for all that everything points to him, that is what the poisoner or poisoners would want us to believe. We shouldn’t fall into the trap of just watching him and let our flanks unguarded. “  

 

“We won’t, we’ll be guarded and intelligent. We should keep our eyes open and be cautious. If they are not the poisoners they’ll try to convince us… or they should.” Philippe replied, looking down at his arm, Claudine had taken a sample of blood to make sure there was no poison in it, but it was still bleeding. 

 

“Put pressure here,” Claudine told him.  “Have you ever had a problem with bleeding before?”

 

“No, I normally heal pretty quickly, or that’s what the doctor at war told me.” He looked at his arm and back at her “Why?”

 

“It is well known, your highness that the blood of royals is different to that of others. You are prone to diseases that we are not, but protected from diseases that we are prone to,” Claudine said. “It is not known why or how such diseases are spread. If Prince Sherlock has the Royal Disease, there is a remote possibility that it could spread to your family.”  

 

“Well we don’t really know if he really has the disease…” Philippe looked under the bit of cloth he was pressing to his arm, it had stopped bleeding. “We don’t know if anything he has told us is real…”

 

“But there is no reason to think that he is lying.  After all if he was trying to take over the throne why would he be here where he is easily captured?” the chevalier asked.  

 

“Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer,” Philippe said, remembering the words his brother had said.

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

Louis was woken by the noise outside not long after he had gone to bed. He went to the window with Bontemps at his side. Below there seemed to be chaos. But it was a happy chaos. He spotted his brother and the chevalier celebrating with some of the Sherrinford people. “Shall, I go and see what the revelling is about, Sire?” Bontemps asked. 

“It seems like they’re having fun” Louis said, almost ignoring Bontemps question “ I’ll go myself, get my clothes.”

Some minutes later Louis was reaching the place in the gardens where the reunion was taking place, he walked towards his brother, looking around at the people.

“Is it not very early for this?”

“A Princess Royal has just been born, brother,” Philippe told him. A group of Sherrinford people rushed by in kilts carrying torches. 

“They really do strange celebrations…” Louis thought, looking at the men; then turned back at Philippe “Where is the proud dad, I would like to give my congratulations.” 

“He is still with his wife and the doctors. Apparently they have to make a lot of noise to chase away evil spirits,” Philippe replied. “And fuck a lot.” 

Louis looked confused “They just had a baby.” But Philippe was already not listening and joining in with the rest. Louis decided to go and check on the newborn and the prince and princess.

“She isn’t the one doing the fucking,” Philippe replied as he wandered away in the direction of the revellers. 

The king found Sherlock, and the two doctors standing in the hallway outside Princess Irene’s room. “Well, what is the cure?” Sherlock was demanding. 

The two doctors looked at each other. “There isn’t one,” John was finally the one brave enough to tell him. 

Sherlock seemed confused, but not shocked at all “and the baby, is she ok?” 

“It is too soon to tell if she was affected by the poison,” John added. 

“So I could lose them both?” he asked. “We came to France to avoid this.” 

“To avoid what?” Louis decided to interrupt the conversation “ Was the any problem in the childbirth?”

“Not with the actual birth, but her highness has been poisoned. She will bleed to death and there is nothing we can do about it,” John told him. 

“We came to France to get out of my brother’s influence. If my daughter lives she surpasses him as heir,” Sherlock informed him. “But it seems he has someone in his employ here and close enough to poison Irene.”

Louis was impressed by the calmness of Sherlock “Your brother has tried to do this before? How do you know it’s him?” he struggled a bit with his thoughts, was all the suspecting along those months been a miss?.

“That is why he was banished to England,” Sherlock said. 

Louis took a breath, now confused but trying not to show “I hope you daughter is all right, don’t hesitate in taking or ask for anything you need. And I hope the princess can rest with the lesser pain as possible. I have to take care of other matters.” he then walked away.

Once Louis was out of sight, Sherlock lent back against the wall and slowly slide down, his legs no longer able to hold him. He covered his face in his hands. 

“I’m sorry” John said lowering to his level “I’ll do what i can to find an antidote for the baby…” he put his hand on Sherlock's back “And we can make Irene sleep through it…”

“Save Ninette,” Sherlock managed to say. 

 

***

 

Louis entered the ministers room looking for Louvois in anger; he was sitting next to Colbert. 

“What do we know about the brother?”

“What brother?” He asked, surprised at the appearance. 

“You studied and talk about the queen, but what about the brother?”

“Prince Mycroft?” Louvois asked. 

“Obviously” he hit the table with his fist.

The ministers were slow minded having been roused from their beds by the celebration. “Not much, Sire.”

“He is eight years older than Sherlock, and was sent to London when still a child to continue his studies. Sherrinford apparently has no schools and the royal family hires tutors from both England and France. Mycroft is apparently the heir to the throne, or was until Sherlock’s daughter was born tonight. They pass the throne from mother to daughter or in this case, mother to granddaughter.” 

“There was an uncle, the Queen’s brother, but he apparently was not quite of the right mind. He used to dress as a woman and roam the country dancing with whoever he passed along the way. It is said that he was well received by the common folk, housed and fed by them. But during a storm one night he went out to dance in the rain. As you are aware, Sire, Sherrins wear woollen clothing. His skirts became water logged and he tripped, falling from a cliff. Or that is what is believed to have happened.”

“There is also some talk about there being a sister. But it is apparently forbidden to speak of her. Though it is claimed that she is locked in the castle tower,” Fabien added. “If she exists then she would be the heir.” 

Louis looked from one to the other listening and processing what he was hearing. “Why is all this information coming to me like drops! You’re supposed to tell me everything. Do I have to read it myself?!” He was actually really angry. He wanted to go back to Sherlock and ask about all of it, but it was not a good moment for that. “Does this brother, Mycroft… have a reason to try and poison his brother? Is there a possibility of him having a daughter? Is he married?”

“What’s the problem sire?” Fabien asked “Are you suspecting is not the french royal family who they are trying to kill?”

“Sire, it is extremely difficult to get any information out of the prince’s people. We are only able to pick up this information by rumour among the servants,” Louvois told him. 

“Why have you not been able to get someone onto Sherrinford?” Louis asked. 

“Because everyone knows everyone there, Sire. Strangers do not make it past the port and those who have docked there cannot get information out of people who will only talk in Gaelic.”

“We know that William of Orange has his sights on France. Getting Sherrinford would be of an advantage to him. I want to know who this Prince Mycroft is working with, Dutch, English, for himself? I need information!” Louis walked toward the window and looked out at the celebration. It was obvious that the state of the Princess had not left the close circle around her. “We need a close tie with Prince Sherlock.” 

“I’ll do my best, Sire,” Fabien said, then bow and left the room; in reality confused of what he could do to investigate this.

“And who do you think is best, we don’t know if any of them is to be trust…” Louvois wondered, trying to discover what Louis was thinking.

“Both my family and the royal family of Sherrinford are under attack. It is possible that Prince Mycroft has the same ambitions as William of Orange, who wants to rule the whole of Europe,” Louis said quietly. “Princess Irene has been poisoned. The doctors do not expect her to live and it is possible that the child will also die. See to it that a servant follows my brother everywhere and that he does not eat anything or drink anything that has not been tasted, even if the servant has to snatch it out of his hands.”

“Yes, sire. We’ll put all our efforts in keeping the families alive,” Colbert answered.

“Two!” Louis shouted. “Two princesses having sanctuary under my roof have been poisoned in two years! I will not be responsible for more. Do you hear? This must stop.” 

***

 

Sherlock entered the room where Louis was with Philippe and Bontemps. He was wearing his Sherrin clothing of black kilt, loose shirt and a woollen vest. The loose end of the kilt was thrown up over is left shoulder and fastened with a large brooch of gold, his family crest. Attached to it was a small swath of the Holmes tartan. His hair was a loose mop of dark curls. 

He put his hand on the top of a high backed chair to steady himself. He was paler than usual or perhaps it was that he was wearing black again, after slowly growing accustomed to the colours of the court. 

“My wife is dead,” he said with shaky voice. “Poisoned with feverfew, so that she would bleed to death when the baby was born. I have a daughter, Princess Royale, Ninette Irene. The doctors do not know if she will live. A bottle was stolen from Lord Watson’s poison’s chest.”

“Do you suspect, the doctor?” Philippe asked.

“He is capable and he blames me for his wife’s death. But…”

“But you cannot bring yourself to believe that he would,” Philippe finished, knowing all to well of that situation. 

“Six months ago I received a letter from my father saying that my mother had fallen ill. He said that it was from not eating enough. But she is Queen and no one in Sherrinford Holmes would eat if she did not have food. I have never known her to be ill.”

“Why was your brother banished to England?” Louis asked. 

“He tried to poison someone,” Sherlock said vaguely.

“Who?” Louis insisted. 

Sherlock didn’t answer. 

“Your sister, perhaps?”

Sherlock couldn’t disguise his reaction. 

“Yes, your sister. Why is she not heir?” Louis asked. 

“Because she is quite insane.” Sherlock’s grip on the chair had turned his knuckles white. 

“Sit down, your highness,” Louis told him. Sherlock sat in the chair that he had been hanging onto. 

“At five she murdered a child. At six she set fire to the castle. By the time she was seven they had to put bars on her window and lock her in her room,” Sherlock told them. 

“And so your brother tried to poison her,” Philippe said. 

“He was home from England where he was going to school. The family gathered for a celebration dinner. Euros tried to poison us all but the servants had an early meal that night. Three of them died. Over the next few days my brother tried several times to kill her. When he tried to poison her one of her maids died. That’s when Mother decided he needed to go back to England. And as far as I know Euros has never left her room since.”

“But you suspect that your brother is behind the poisoning of your wife?” Louis asked. 

“Euros always claimed that it was Mycroft who was the killer. He has been in England for so long now that he might as well be English. According to our laws of succession, even if Mycroft marries and has a daughter, Ninette will still be heir,” Sherlock told them. 

“Which makes her a target,” Louis added. 

“There must be someone here working for him,” Sherlock said. 

“What do you need?” Louis asked. 

Sherlock thought for a minute. “There are two things I need. Irene was of your beliefs. She asked to be buried according to those beliefs. I do not know how. Sherrin has no place for the dead. Every foot of land is important to us. At high tide, a body is taken to Arthur’s Cliff and thrown into the sea.”

“Bontemps, have Princess Irene’s funeral arranged. And the second?”

“Your permission to wear my mourning clothes.”

“Granted.”

“What is your customs of mourning?” Philippe asked almost afraid to know after hearing how they treat their dead. 

“We have no time limit on mourning. Grandmother Annie, an old woman who lives alone in a hut on Holmes, has been in mourning for her husband for more than 40 years. She will see no one, so we leave her be. Food, clothing, firewood are provided for her, mostly by her neighbours.”

“She does nothing for her keep?” Philippe asked. 

“She has a garden where she grows flowers and vegetables. When it is time for harvest, she takes what she needs and shares the rest with her neighbours. People send her old clothes from all over Sherrin and Holmes. She makes blankets and wall hangings out of them. I have one on my bed at home. It’s quite beautiful.” 

“You sleep with a blanket make of old clothes from peasants?” Philippe asked. 

“You are imagining the worst. I assure you that the story stitched in that blanket is as beautiful as any tapestry I have seen hanging in Versailles.”

 

The funeral was arranged for next sunday and while that was getting ready people could go and give their condolences to the royal family. Most of the people at the palace had grown to be friends with the princess, and it was hard to let her leave. But in reality the new royal baby looked so like her that some said it was a reincarnation; the rumor about it spread and most of the people came to Sherlock just to see the baby, which they had to view at a distance since Sherlock was so protective of her. 

For the most part, Sherlock stayed in his rooms and saw no one. He didn’t even talk to John. People in the rooms around him began complaining of music coming from his rooms in the early hours. 

“Should I talk to his highness?” Bontemps asked Louis.

Louis hesitated for a second thinking about the words Sherlock had told me and music was not in the things he had asked for; but at the same time he didn’t want to be the one to upset him.

“Maybe we should try and ask with his doctor. He could tell us how the prince is going and he can help us to calm his music at early hours appetite.”

John was nervous. The king had asked to see him and he had never done so before. He’d only ever seen Louis in Sherlock’s presence. He bowed respectfully. 

“I hope you and your people are recovering from your loss” the king started. “How is the baby going?”

“It is not something you recover from, your majesty, but life continues. Princess Ninette Irene is strong and healthy. The wet nurse you provided is gentle and loving with her.”

Louis smiled back politely. “It’s the loud music at dawn a common thing for mourning in your country or is it just a whim of your prince?”

“It’s a Sherlock thing. He plays the violin himself, composes. It is a distraction from his emotions and helps him think. He doesn’t sleep well at night. I believe it comes from playing with his sister.”

“Can he not think at another time? People are complaining…” 

“Sire, could you sleep well, if your enemy is close enough to poison your wife and threaten your children?” John asked. 

“I’m not asking him to sleep, but to stop playing” he was starting to get mad at John answering him like that “The palace guards and Mister Marchal are working in trying to bring the prince’s brother here, the baby is safe; he should try to relax. Have you ever worked on questioning all the men and women at his household? It could be any one”

“LeStrade has questioned every one of his highness’ household and I have so far eliminated 86 types of poison,” John replied. “I will talk to his highness about the music.” 

Louis walked around in the room to relax a bit “Do you think there is a possibility that Mycroft had reached someone from the french court? Most of the english ladies at Henriette household have already gone back to England.” 

“Mycroft has spies in every court in Europe and some in the east, Sire. There is no reason to think he doesn’t have an assassin here,” John told him. “And in Sherlock’s household.” 

“We’ll do everything we can to get hold of the assassin. Do the brothers still keep contact? Is ti possible to invite Mycroft to come?”

“Your Prince Sherlock prefers the common man, though doesn’t he?” John turned quickly to see Fabien standing in the doorway. 

“I don’t think it would do any good to invite him. Personally, I don’t think he has anything to do with any of this. It is Sherlock who suspects him. But I have only met him a few times.”

“And who do you suspect?” Fabien asked, walking closer to them.

“The East Wind,” John said. 

Both the men looked at him with blank expressions, Fabien even looked to the east through the window trying to understand something.

“Princess Euros Margarette,” John said. “She is a witch.” 

Louis shivered to the mentioning of that word “And do you know if there's a movement in your country, if there's even enough people to do it, that favors the princess instead of Sherlock's daughter?” 

“More than two thirds of the Sherrin do not live on Sherrinford. It wouldn’t matter what they believe. She once told a worker at the castle to go home and kill his family.”

“So she must be convincing someone at the castle to send or come here and poison the princess” Fabien answered to his words

“Did he?” Louis asked.

“Your Majesty?” Fabien asked. 

“Yes, he did,” John replied. “Any one of Sherlock’s people could be the poisoner.”

“Including you?” Fabien asked. 

“Yes,” John replied. “Including me. I have been exposed to her more than anyone barring Sherlock himself. I had access to the poison and to Princess Irene. That is why I do not have access to Princess Ninette. Claudine cares for her.” 

“The prince does not let you see his daughter?” Louis asked in disbelief. He thought that the confidence between them was over those things.

“He has no delusions concerning the power that his sister has. She is able to convince anyone to do anything, even after months since they last saw her. And there are those who believe she is the rightful heir and that she is being held prisoner unjustly.”

“But how does she get to contact people here?” Fabien asked now. “We open all the letters that enter the palace before giving them out.”

“She wouldn’t need to, if she has given instruction before we left Sherrinford,” John told him. 

“She spoke to you before you left?” Louis asked, still trying to understand why Sherlock didn’t trust him at that moment.

“I had to see her before we left. I’m her doctor. I had to assure the Queen that she was well enough to be left in the hands of my assistant.” 

“And Sherlock?” he was thinking now, not really listening. “You said he plays the violin with her, so they speak and see each other often”

“Nearly everyday,” John replied. 

“And can she not convince him?” he wondered.

“There has been no incidents so far,” John replied uncertain. 

“What if it’s her playing with him now? What if is him who we should keep far away from the baby?”

 

The first thing Claudine saw when she opened the door into the Princess Royal’s room was the nanny on the floor. She rushed in before thinking to help the woman, she was not dead, but she was not conscious either. She reached to the crib to check on the Princess and her eyes widened in horror, the crib was empty.

“Guards!” she screamed as Fabien had taught her. Two guards entered the room within a minute. “Princess Ninette has been kidnapped. Inform Fabien Marchal and Bontemps immediately.”

The guards ran and did as commanded and Claudine crouched to check on the nanny again, her breathing was hard and her pulse slow, she tried to discover if she had been poisoned. Not long after she heard a noise behind her at the door.

Fabien was gasping for breath having run as fast as he could when he received the news. “Are you alright?” he asked first. 

“I’m fine, but you have to look for the baby” she looked at the secret door for the servants, which was slightly open. Whoever who has taken her was a bit stupid to leave the door open.

With two guards on his heels he rushed through the door into the dark corridors that the servants walked. He knew that Claudine hadn’t seen the kidnapper or she would have said. 

The king reached the nursery followed by Bontemps and John and looked around the room and then to Claudine and the nanny.

“What happened?” he asked

“Someone has kidnapped the princess,” Claudine said. John ran to the crib in panic, he had to see it with his own eyes.

Louis was calm. “Where’s Prince Sherlock?” he asked Bontemps

“In the gardens, Sire. I believe he wanted to complete his composition for his wife’s funeral,” Bontemps replied. 

“Look for him and bring him here” the king wanted to be sure Sherlock was not behind the kidnapping of his own daughter.

“I think I know where he is,” John said. “I can get to him faster. No disrespect meant,” he told Bontemps who was a fair bit older than John.

Louis nodded but told two guards to follow him, as he was not totally confident. John left. “His leg has made a miraculous recovery.”

“It has not rained in days, Sire. The damp weather affects old injuries and old joints,” Claudine replied in John’s defence. 

Fabien burst out into the tunnels where many of the palace’s food stocks were kept. He grabbed the first person he saw. “Did you see someone run through here with a baby?” 

The young girl trembled “There's normally a lot of people around here… no one was running” and Fabien kept on his way through the corridors, thinking of who could have taken the baby and where too.

John and Fabien both spotted Anderson in the gardens at the same time. He was running towards the fountain. John gave up on heading to Sherlock and turned to find out what Anderson was doing in a garden reserved for nobility, and what he was carrying. 

 

Anderson turned at the corner of the bushes when he noticed he was being followed. He bumped into a woman who screamed and he almost tripped over, but he got himself up and continued running, now Fabien and John ran together after him through tall bushes.

Anderson started to outrun them and Fabien took out his pistol, John looked in shock and hold a hand up to his arm.

“You’ll kill the princess” he said, while still running.

“I won’t,” Fabien answered and pointed to Anderson with the gun, shooting him on his right leg, behind the knee, making him fall over immediately.

John reached Anderson first and rolled him over. He was obviously in a great deal of pain and couldn’t get up. But John didn’t care. He grabbed at the baby but Anderson held a knife to it’s throat. 

“Stop or I will kill her,” Anderson said. 

A second shot rang out, this time from a different direction. The bullet hit Anderson in the head. His hand fell away from Ninette, dropping the knife. 

Both John and fabien looked at the direction the bullet came from, Sherlock was standing at the end of the bush corridor. The violin in one hand and a gun on the other; his face looked blank.

“Do I always have to finish all the work?” he said, plain voice.

John stood, cradling Ninette in his arms. He laughed. They walked back into the palace together. Sherlock took the baby to his rooms. “Have someone bring the crib here.”

“You know this isn’t the end of it,” John said. 

“I know, but until Euros discovers that Anderson failed Ninette is safe,” Sherlock replied. 

“Until she finds someone else who can help her…”

THE END.


End file.
